


Fate/Holy Seal

by Nyrtia



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Familiar Characters Hiding Identities, Gen, Holy Grail War but with FE Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-10 22:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 90,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15301863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyrtia/pseuds/Nyrtia
Summary: On a small island, far removed from any continent, six mages will gather to participate in the Fire Emblem War. Their victory promises a wish; their defeat spells almost certain death.In this war, only the one with the strongest desire can win- be it Master, or Servant.





	1. Prologue

- _Sometime, Somewhere_ -

_The girl stands in a vast field of snow._

_Solitary. Forgotten._

_She can hear nothing other than the howling wind, see nothing but the endless white snow, and feel nothing but the biting chill of the blizzard._

_In the distance, almost like a mirage amidst the snowstorm, there is just a single house._

_It is devoid of all life. Long held secrets of magic had once been kept in the household, the home of generations of magi, but now none would even walk in what remained of the residence._

_The girl doesn’t care. Not about the house, nor the snow._

_She cares only for leaving the land._

_The girl takes a heavy step. Her movements are slow in the harsh conditions, but she shrugs off any pain, preserving in creating distance between her and the house._

_Her expression blank, her eyes displaying maturity beyond her years._

_She has no desires to obtain anything, see anything, or become anything._

_All the girl wants is to be anywhere else._

* * *

In the many millennia following the age of wars, people have spread across the world, mixing their cultures and history. Tales of heroes from the past are carried through each generation, even as society forgets the days of magic, dragons, and empires.

Modern magecraft, a study into the secrets of mana and the attempt to recreate true magic, evolved from the days of tome-based magecraft, and mages themselves have become quiet, forgotten and ignored by the world at large. Among them, rumours circulate of an almighty wish granting object, labelled as a Fire Emblem.

For those few who would believe in such a thing…

The stage is Outer Island- small, away from any continents, and known for being a gathering spot for people all across the world. Only one settlement spans the island, from the east coast to the western forest.

It is here, in this city, that the Fire Emblem War shall take place.

* * *

- _Four Nights Before the Fire Emblem War_ -

Though exhausted, Harold Galloway had a duty to carry out. The will of his family, in the pursuit of glory. To triumph in this war.

To summon a Heroic Spirit of legend, and obtain to Fire Emblem.

His sigh betrayed his personal feelings on the matter; he did not want to be in this foreign island city, fighting unknown people for something he didn’t even really want. All that drove him was the pressure his family had put upon him, the inheritor of his father’s magic.

He glanced at the time, and failed to fight back a yawn. Past midnight, after a long day of travelling from his cosy, quiet home in Valm. All Harold wanted was a comfy bed, and a nice long sleep. It was a cold night, and he hadn’t even made it to his hotel yet.

Even at night, Nagilis city was vibrant and full of people; endless streams of residents flowed back and forth through the streets, as his cab took him from the chilly port to his hotel. The hotel was one of many multi-storey buildings in the heart of the city. From what he knew, most of the population and development of the city was clustered on this side of the island, around the port, and gradually spread out across the island up to the forest.

But Harold had only glanced vaguely at a map, so he wasn’t sure about the specifics, and definitely didn’t know much about the layout.

After sighing, paying the cab driver, spending half an hour checking in, dumping his luggage into his room, and sighing again, he found himself on the roof of the hotel, ready to carry out his duty.

There was no better place to feel the bitter winter chill. Grumbling and moaning, teeth chattering, Harold drew out the necessary magic circle needed for the ritual. All he had to do was chant the incantation.

…It was hard to stay focused. The mage couldn’t stop thinking about how little he wanted to be doing this, how cold he was, and how tired he felt.

His drowsy eyes wandered over the view of Nagilis city’s skyline. Vast and bright, despite the hour. A stark contrast to his mood.

After one last heavy sigh, he began.

The circle glowed, the magic in the air thickened, words Harold had spent weeks memorising flowed out of his mouth. As he finished, he took a step back, watching the magic circle erupt with magical energy, slowly settling to reveal a dignified figure.

A man…a tall one, with an air of authority. This was…

His servant.

Harold’s breath caught as the man opened his eyes.

“I presume you are my Master?”

* * *

- _Three Nights Before the Fire Emblem War_ -

“Have another. It’s on me! I’m feeling generous.”

Kerry Denton was not one to reject a free drink. The young man seated next to him in the small, musty bar, pushed a mug towards him. Both were on their third that night.

“Sure, buddy…”

The young man, Drew, clapped Kerry on the back cheerfully.

“You, my friend, you….you are,” Drew said, pausing, visibly straining himself to finish the sentence, “one…swell guy. Man.”

Kerry chuckled as genuinely as he could muster, taking a healthy swig of the beer in front of him.

“Yeah, you’re pretty rad too…”

They had spoken exactly three times during their high school days- only one time had their exchange of words passed a greeting.

“It’s, er, a shame that no one else came, huh,” Kerry said weakly. Drew sighed, downing his entire mug.

“Fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em all. Don’t give a fuck about the shit turnout. I’m leaving this shithole city tomorrow anyway.”

“You never mentioned why you suddenly decided to leave…”

Kerry regretted saying this, since that had probably been explained already, and he just hadn’t really been paying attention. But Drew didn’t seem to mind, since he looked ready to explain it a thousand times over.

“Okay, well, _officially_ , I found work overseas, in Tellius, and I did, but the real reason is,” he explained, but pauses, glancing at his empty mug. Kerry quickly finished his, and Drew got their refills.

“Well,” Drew continues, ingesting more beer, “my grandfather is insisting that I do some weirdass fuckin’ ritual for him and he just won’t stop hounding me about it. He won’t leave me alone, raving about magic and wars and shit. He’s an absolute nutcase!”

Normally, Kerry wouldn’t care, but between having now drank three and a half beers, looking forward to absolutely nothing the next morning, being close to broke, and constantly attempting to forget his ongoing existential crisis, his curiosity was piqued.

It was mainly the alcohol at work, though.

“So wh…what’s the deal with that?”

“Eh? Uh, the magical war? Haha, well…”

Drew trailed off, bursting into laughter suddenly. Kerry couldn’t help but join in, despite being utterly clueless about what was so funny.

“I’m too sober for this shit,” Drew said.

After both had doubled down on their alcohol consumption- and possibly lightly dabbled with drugs- Drew led Kerry back to his apartment, declaring that it’d be easier to show rather than tell. Kerry suspected this was because the alcohol was hard at work, decaying Drew’s vocabulary into that of a toddler’s.

Drew carelessly stumbled through his front door, haphazardly slamming the lights on. Had Kerry been slightly more observational, and more than slightly less drunk, he would have noticed the large pile of suitcases and bags next to the front door.

Instead, he barrelled heedlessly into them upon entering, earning hysterical laughter from Drew. Before Kerry could pick himself up, he had started to laugh himself into tears. Only after wasting several minutes did both manage to stand up and walk into the next room, which, at this stage, was an incredible feat.

Drew indicated a strange inscription on the floor. Kerry wondered if it was meant to be a pentagram shape, and that he was too intoxicated to see a straight line, or if it was actually a circle.

“The fuckin’…guh. Old guy. Dammit. He just barged in here and. D- drew this- drew? Pfft, that’s my name,” Drew attempted to explain, breaking off into giggles. Kerry followed suite.

“Hehe, you gonna summon satan, or…pfft, Drew…drew,” Kerry valiantly made an effort to ask, between chuckles and restrained laughter. Drew made an odd barfing noise in response, digging through his bin until he pulled something out in triumph.

And then immediately threw up into the bin.

Kerry, being the supportive friend that Drew knew him so well for, snatched what had been recovered out of the bin, and was swamped by nausea at the sight of words on a page.

“Oh my god, I can’t read,” he blurted, trying to discern the text as if it was in some kind of foreign language. Eventually, he began reading it out, tripping up over the words several times, whilst Drew continued to hurl into the bin. His hand began to sting, but he passed this off as his brain appealing to the last of his rationality with a feeble ‘please stop’.

The circle lit up, casting light on the took young men, finally convincing both that maybe five, maybe six, probably seven beers was too much for one night. A blast of energy knocked both flat on their backsides, neither of them able to move a single muscle in fascination and terror.

When the smoke cleared, Kerry could make out a cloaked figure standing before him, whilst Drew had passed out.

“Are you the one who claims to be my Master?”

* * *

- _Two Nights Before the Fire Emblem War_ -

Adelina Scheuer lived in a church. A church, dedicated to the worship of Naga.

Her room reflected her current lifestyle; there was no extravagance, no possessions that a typical fourteen year old girl would own, only a few books and staffs. Adelina was an apprentice mage, learning the holy magic of the church.

She sat at her desk, flicking through a tome, fixated on all its contents. The magic it held and described was what the girl dreamed of using; yet, at her level, all she was capable of utilising was healing staves.

Unlike modern day mages, the light magic of the church, passed down from ancient times, functioned without magic crests, and little reliance on magic circuits. Training was necessary, as familiarising the body with the catalyst, such as a tome or staff, was needed for proper use.

Adelina rocked back on her chair in thought.

“I wonder if there’s an easier form of light magic…”

She slowly closed the tome she’d been studying for several days, tapping her finger on its cover. She was struggling to adjust to this than any of the staves she’d used in the past. It was frustrating, and she was starting to make her feel inadequate.

…The only answer she’d get would be from her teacher- there was no point mulling it over on her own. Though it was late, Adelina knew she wouldn’t get sleep that night until she asked.

The girl quietly stepped outside her room, struck with a frigid chill. Excitement was overshadowed with mild bitterness as she walked as briskly as possibly through the dark, empty corridors in the back of the building.

Though it was her home, and had been for several years, she couldn’t help but be unnerved by the eerie nights in the large, gloomy church, housing only to two people. She regretted not bringing a candle with her.

To her relief, she made it to her uncle’s study unharmed and mostly unspooked. Thanking Naga, she knocked the door, and awaited a response.

“Enter.”

Her teacher’s voice was faint, yet sharp enough to be heard. She gingerly opened the door and stepped inside. Unlike her room, lit by candles, her uncle’s study’s source of illumination was his light magic.

“It is late, child,” Friedemann Scheuer stated, not looking up from the spread of old parchments on his desk.

“I know, uncle, but…it’s about the tome,” Adelina began. Though her uncle was not a harsh or unloving man, he was stern enough to make the young girl second guess her actions often.

“Hm, yes…I assume you’re dissatisfied with your progress?”

The girl shifted uncomfortably. Friedemann closed his eyes slowly, and turned to look at his niece.

“You are young, Adelina. Unpracticed. Learning tomes takes time and patience, moreso than staves.”

“I know, but, maybe it’d be better if I started off with something at a lower level…”

“Perhaps…however, it’s only been a few weeks since you obtained the tome. I suggest you take longer with it. You excelled with your staff ability; I see much promise in you yet.”

The holy man turned back to his desk, signifying that he was done talking.

“I suppose...erm, thank you, uncle,” Adelina said, feeling only mildly reassured. Before she left, her curiosity about her teacher’s work compelled her to press on with the conversation.

“Are you working on details about…the war?” she queried. Her uncle paused, the faintest of smiles crossing his face.

“Indeed. Four summonings have already taken place- the war shall begin any day now. What concerns me is that the Clementines have yet to make their move…”

“But they’re in charge of this city’s magic, right? They’ve been in every Fire Emblem War since they began,” Adelina interjected.

“Of course. They still have a chance. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Clementine heir goes for the Saber class Servant in this war.”

“Saber still hasn’t been summoned?”

“Saber, Lancer, and Assassin remain. Though I suspect this is not out of choice; the extreme length of time since the last war has considerably dulled knowledge of this war in the minds of many. I imagine most masters aren’t even aware of catalysts. In light of this, I’ve been reviewing records of the last war in the hopes of discovering how it ended, but…”

The girl leaned forward, tilting her head.

“But?”

“The occupants of this church at the time must have been terribly disorganised,” the priest chuckled, “still, I despair to think about the participants of this war in an era like this…”

“What do you mean, uncle?”

Friedemann rose to his feet, giving his niece his full attention.

“Desire.”

“Desire…? You mean, their wishes?”

“Indeed. Tell me, Adelina…if you were a Master, what wish would you seek the Fire Emblem for?”

After some consideration, Adelina shook her head.

“I don’t think I have anything I want that much…maybe I’m just naïve, but…even if I wanted something, I don’t think it’d take the Emblem to fulfil it.”

Gently, the priest patted her head in approval.

“As one as young as yourself, you are wise to acknowledge the depth of your desires. It is a trait many mages do not hold- and it leads to petty motivations in the war,” Friedemann’s tone became disdainful, “power. Answers. True magic- it’s laughable. They seek Naga’s greatest gift to the world with such trivial needs. It’s an insult.”

“Then- what would you wish for?”

“Naturally, my one and only wish is- and always has been- to gaze upon Naga’s true form.”

“Naga…herself…?” Adelina repeated, disconcerted by her uncle’s uncharacteristic passion.

“Of course! I am but her humble servant; and the Fire Emblem would do better in the hands of the church, its true home, among worshippers of Naga…”

Adelina froze in place.

“Then…you…you’re participating…?”

“Of course. I believe the Assassin class will suit my needs best. You needn’t worry. You won’t be involved…but you will need to keep your silence, and stay in the church until the end of the war- for your own safety, yes, but also for mine. Otherwise…”

The girl broke out into a cold sweat. What her mentor was speaking of defeated the entire purpose of the church’s role in the Fire Emblem War. They were meant to guide Masters chosen by the Emblem, ensure that the secrets of magic did not get exposed to the world, and in the end, grant the winner the right to use the Emblem’s wish granting powers.

She couldn’t agree with him. Despite how her freedom, or even her life, could be forfeit from refusing, she absolutely could not agree with him.

Adelina knew she had to do something; what and how was beyond her, but she had to try.

“What’s wrong, child?”

She eyed the ball of light behind her uncle. The moment she hinted at rebellion, it would fly at her, and end her life. She was sure of it.

“W-well,” she said, her voice cracking in fear, “I think, uh, you should, er…”

Friedemann frowned in confusion, and was thoroughly unprepared to deal with the girl’s foot striking his groin in a matter of seconds.

“Go to hell!” Adelina cried, stumbling backwards and throwing herself out the door. She had to escape with haste. There was no time to go to her room. She had to go outside, find somewhere to hide…

…and then what? If she did that, her uncle would go ahead with his plan, she would have no home, and would be hunted down and killed. Simply escaping wasn’t good enough. She had to foil her uncle’s plan.

With focus, terror, and resolve all clutching her heart, she dashed down the corridors, attempting to distance herself from him, before searching for wherever he’d presumably set up a magic circle. Light exploded behind her, sending her flying forwards. Frantically picking herself up, she hurtled to the cellar, the closest viable room her uncle would use.

Short of breath, barely registering the red marks on the floor, she slammed the cellar door shut, cloaking the room in total darkness. It wasn’t long before her uncle would make it to her. She had to act fast.

But what could she do?

Destroying the magic circle was only a temporary measure, and her impending demise was closing in on her. Fear and frustration gnawed at her, an overwhelming pressure threatened to crush her reasoning…

“Something…anything… _please_ …!”

Her delicate fists clenched, and a searing pain erupted and faded on the back of her hand.

Her mind collapsed.

Her end was only moments away.

Adelina fell to her knees, eyes shut in terror.

“Help me…!” she whispered through her tears.

As the door slammed open, the magic circle lit up and exploded with energy. Her teacher’s face was contorted with rage.

“You little…” he snarled. But she paid him no heed. Her quivering eyes were focused on the man she’d summoned.

“Are you…my Master?”

* * *

- _The Night Before the Fire Emblem War_ -

A lone woman stepped through the energetic streets of Nagilis city, the sun having only just set, a large briefcase in hand. The case was heavy, and she had been walking from almost one end of the city to the other, but it was little problem for the woman. She had been advised against going alone; as the head of the Clementine family, she would be a top target for any Masters in the war to come. An early elimination of such a powerful enemy would be strongly desirable.

However, Felicia had insisted on being unaccompanied, not even accepting a vehicle, assuring that she was under no threat in a public area, with many bystanders in the way.

She ran her gloved hand through her short, flaming red hair, taking in the sights of the city. She was on a high street, with various stores already closed for the day. The mage was glad she decided to walk; stopping to get some food to calm her stomach would only be a minor detour.

Her choices were limited here, alas, so she exited the nearest fast food store fifteen minutes later with a questionably looking and even more dubiously tasting burger.

Felicia had only taken five bites by the time she’d arrived at her destination; a high rise apartment complex, in the central district of the city, that was to be her base of operations during the war to come. The bounded field was already in place- in fact, many other preparations had already been carried out in setting up the base.

The mage was far more occupied with her pathetic excuse of a meal, the vile mass of grease and fat she held in her hand, regarding it with loathing and disgust. Whilst she did know better, she could not refrain from torching what remained of it in her hand.

Fortunately, and as expected, the spectacle lasted only a single second, with absolutely nothing to indicate she’d been holding any food in the first place. With a small shrug, she strode into the complex, refamiliarising herself with the bounded field as she made her way to her floor.

The fourth floor was hers; a small room holding a single bed, a larger room for her magic needs, such as the summoning she was about to carry out, and the biggest room, full of tech, hardware and a wall of screens.

Mages do not often work with modern technology, and are largely unaccustomed with it. For various reasons, they choose to ignore such devices.

And that is why Felicia Clementine, to the distaste of her family and all who knew her in the Mage’s Association, studied and practiced using modern technology alongside her magic. It could only provide an advantage in a mage’s war.

She set the case down next to her bed, removed her gloves, and stepped into her designated workshop. The magic circle had been set up in advance- all that was needed was the incantation. The mage held out her hand, glancing at the Command Seals on her left hand.

Felicia’s eyes narrowed; her resolve was unquestionable. She was here to win. In the name of her family, and their ownership of the land this war was to be fought on.

And for her wish; her naïve, childish dream, that she hadn’t dared speak aloud for a decade.

The mage took a deep breath, and began the summoning; the magic circle lit and a figure emerged from the billowing smoke.

Her Servant in the war.

Her one shot at winning.

“You are…my Master?”

* * *

On that same night, in the outskirts of the city, another woman leant against a tree, her hand held out. She gazed absentmindedly at her Command Seals, them now being a familiar sight, having been carrying them for over a year now.

“Nice night tonight…” she muttered, sparing the sky only a single glance. Clouds covered most of the stars, hiding the moon as well. A chilly wind brushed past her, but she took little notice to it.

The lady was waiting; she didn’t want her summoning to be interrupted, and she had a call to take. She closed her eyes, resting her head against the tree. Her breathing was slow, and calm, despite how long she’d been anticipating this very night for.

Her pocket vibrated softly. The mage slowly reached into it, and pulled out her phone, her eyes still shut.

“ _As mentioned in the previous message, I’ve got you a job. It’s easy money for the likes of you,_ ” the voice on the other end immediately said, without even a greeting.

“Wonderful. But I’ve changed my mind. I’m quitting. Your continued patronage is appreciated, Eldea, but don’t try reaching out to me again,” the woman responded. There was an empty pause.

“… _Is this a joke, Alcott_? _Nobody in the Association pays as well as me. Besides, just who do you think would hire you after the stunt you pulled last year?_ ”

“I won’t need hiring. I have all I need here.”

“ _All you- what are you talking about?! Did you forget I’m the only reason you’re not marked for sealing-_ ”

The phone began violently emitting sparks, the speakers crackling with static, as it dropped to the floor. It was crushed underfoot only a moment later.

The woman, Gracia Alcott, did not spare a single thought about abandoning her employer, nor about the phone she’d just destroyed. They were elements of her past now; a part of her past she could easily forget.

Now she was on the move; confidently striding to a clearing in the forest at the edge of Nagilis city.

Towards her future.

Confident no one had been following her, she double checked the magic circle was set up correctly, and began the summoning. The circle shone under the weak moonlight, smoke billowing up and covering the clearing.

Gracia impassively watched her Servant appear. Even in the dark, the Heroic Spirit seemed to shine with an unearthly aura.

“I ask of you…are you my Master?”


	2. Day One/Night One

- _Day One_ -

The church was covered in a soft morning glow, illuminating the inside through the stained glass windows. Friedemann stood, bathing in the light, a tome clutched to his side. His eyes were closed in deep concentration.

He hadn’t acknowledged the hooded figure since it had entered; all the mystery person had done was sit in one of the back benches, making no sound or movement. He knew who the cloaked figure was, and he revered them.

“You are frustrated, Friedemann Scheuer,” the figure stated, cutting through the thin silence with her soft voice. It was barely audible at the front of the church.

“Is it that noticeable…? I apologise, my lady,” the priest responded solemnly. He did not turn to face the hooded figure.

“You wanted a Servant, despite being overseer.”

Friedemann hung his head.

“…My actions were regrettable. Please-“

“It is not of my concern how you misuse your status. Offer your prayers to the Fire Emblem, and to Naga. Repent. Do not leave this holy site until you have fulfilled your true role in this war.”

There was another silence. Friedemann opened his eyes.

“Very well, my lady,” he uttered. He could not tell if the hooded figure had responded or reacted in any way.

“The final summonings were carried out last night,” he continued, “now the war has truly begun- but I suspect it will be a few days before any…meaningful…skirmishes start.”

“No,” the hooded woman interjected, “rest assured, Friedemann. Tonight…that is when the war shall truly begin.”

The priest did not comment, only containing his surprise and anticipation for that night.

* * *

The cramped, old shed looked as though it would fall apart with a single touch. It stored only a broken chair, a small table, and a pile of maps- though the latter belonged to the woman in the shed.

Gracia stood opposite her Servant, a blue haired man with a mask, who stared at the map his master had laid out on the table.

“This is where we are currently. It’s not an optimal location, but it’s out of the way. If an enemy somehow does find us, counterattacking will be no real issue,” Gracia explained, watching her servant nod before continuing, “we won’t need to come back here after today. Once you’ve memorised this map, we can move onto the next location.”

Another nod. The Servant’s mouth was a flat line as he took in his Master’s explanation.

“This city is divided into districts. I’ll give you a quick rundown of the basics. Downtown Nagilis is to the east; it’s the most densely populated area, so any fights there are bound to have casualties. To the north is the Gate district…it’s the rich side of town. Lots of large estates and old families. The Central district gradually becomes more suburban as you travel westward.

The southern district is known as Soldier’s Sanctuary. It’s the poor part of town. To the west is the Outer district, a quiet, low-population area, bordering on the forest. This might be the optimal place to fight, but the enemy Masters will likely be holed up in the more populated areas.”

“I see,” the Heroic Spirit said.

“There’s no rush. We won’t be going on the offensive- not for now, anyway. The plan is to observe our enemies, preferably through watching them fight each other, and using the information gathered to crush them, one by one.”

“…crush them…” the Servant muttered.

“…Of course, you are of a class- and background- that favours honourable fights. I will not expect or demand you to use underhanded methods to eliminate your opponents. Just be wary of those that will.”

The Servant slowly nodded again.

“Whilst you are observing, I would prefer for you not to start any fights, but if you judge it as a good opportunity to learn of an enemy, then be sure not to reveal anything in the battle.”

“I see…then, I infer that we will be acting mostly separately?”

“Correct. We will meet up nightly, at assigned locations. If I need your assistance, then I will use a Command Seal. I doubt this will be the case, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure.”

The Servant, still focused on the map, paused before speaking.

“I understand,” he said, holding his steady expression, “then, I swear to you, Master, that I will reach- no, surpass your expectations, and hand you the Fire Emblem at the end of this war.”

Gracia eyed her Servant inscrutably.

“Be sure that you do, Saber.”

* * *

Crouching on a chair, fiddling with a small mouse-shaped device, Felicia yawned loudly. Her Servant, a tall, blonde man, regarded the room with rapt interest, his attention resting on a set of screens displaying the apartment block’s CCTV.

His gaze broke off when he noticed his Master grit her teeth in frustration, looking just about ready to smash what she was holding against the wall.

“Forgive me for asking, but…”

“What?” Felicia spat, sharply glaring at her Servant.

“These preparations…could they not have been done in advance?”

He was rewarded for his prying question with the device being thrown at his face. He chose to catch it, rather than let it break against his superhuman resilience.

“Well, duh! But these stupid things only got delivered yesterday! And I have to modify them, calibrate them, link them to the surveillance network, and- fucking- give it back already, would ya?”

The Servant carefully held out the device, which was roughly snatched from his hand.

“I then have to place them in various parts of the city to ensure they’ll do their job correctly.”

Felicia leant back, huffing in frustration.

“This was meant to be my advantage in my war…ugh.”

She set down the device next to the open briefcase, which held several copies of it, lined up in an orderly fashion. Calming herself, she stole a glance at the nearest clock. It was past noon, and she hadn’t eaten since the dire burger from last night had plagued her stomach.

The woman shuddered at the very thought of it.

“Lancer, get me food.”

“…Pardon?”

“You heard me,” she said, ignoring her Servant’s surprised look, “unless you’d rather be the one fiddling with this?”

She kicked the device to emphasise her point. Lancer did not look totally convinced.

“Look, I have a shiny gift for you- something that does actually work- but I’ll only get it ready for you if you find me fast food that isn’t a burger.”

When Lancer made no immediate response, Felicia tossed her purse over her shoulder, which her Servant instinctively caught.

“Are you sure about this? I won’t be able to dematerialise if I’m holding anything not belonging to me.”

“It’s fine,” the mage said, waving off his concerns, “we’re in a public area, after all. The safest place you can be in during this war is with uninvolved innocents…unless there’s some sicko Master or Servant who doesn’t care about killing civilians.”

“And, if I find such…foes?”

Felicia’s eyebrows narrowed.

“Then, as it is part of my duty to protect and preserve the secrets of magic on this island, and to safeguard the nonmagical population from magical harm, you have my permission to engage any sort of careless and wantonly destructive enemy…and, I dunno, shove your spear up their ass.”

* * *

Harold felt pressured by the Servant staring out the window. What the Heroic Spirit was looking at was Nagilis city’s skyline, currently basking in the sun. But what he was looking _for_ was the highest points; the most advantageous vantage spots he could snipe from.

He was Archer, and he was currently sporting an unimpressed look.

“So what you’re saying, Master, is to…’wait and see’?”

“Y-yes,” Harold spluttered in response. He hadn’t signed up for this; why did he have such an intimidating Servant?

Archer’s eyes flickered over the city view, never shifting towards Harold.

“…Cowardly.”

Harold could feel sweat dripping down his face in response to this one scathing remark.

“Well, erm, we don’t really need to, uh… needlessly antagonise the other Masters, do we?” the master said awkwardly.

“Do you think so little of my skill?”

“N-no! I just feel that, uh, we need to form alliances, and, er, make the most of your, hm, class specialities?” Harold stammered. His Servant was still not looking in his direction.

“Use other Servants as bait, hm?”

That hadn’t exactly been what he was getting at, but Harold still let out a small sigh of relief when Archer began mulling it over.

“Very well…prepare all you need. We’ll scout out other Masters and Servants tonight,” Archer concluded, fading from sight.

Harold sat in stunned silence, failing to comprehend what Archer had just said. Wasn’t he meant to be in charge here?

Eventually, he gradually rose to his feet, grasping five small vials with his trembling hands. His palms were sticky with sweat, causing the vials to knock together with a short _klink_. The mage stumbled to his bathroom, running the sink tap with more force than needed.

Archer was getting him more stressed than he could handle; this war had only just started, but he already wanted it to end. As he filled his vials with water, he stared at his Command Seals, engraved on his hand, the burden he was forced to carry.

Though he did not want to fight in the Fire Emblem War, he did have a wish. But was it one he could kill for?

Harold splashed his face with water, readying himself for that night.

* * *

- _Night One_ -

Crouched on a tree branch, Lancer glanced through his visor over the surrounding forest from up high. Though his visibility was limited, he had good cover, and would not fall prey to surprise attacks. Currently, he was watching and waiting, per his Master’s orders.

The Heroic Spirit had been sent here immediately after Felicia had sensed a huge mana spike in the depths of the forest, all the way from her base in the city. Figuring that other Masters and Servants would be drawn in, Lancer had been dispatched to keep lookout for their enemies, preferably before they all arrived.

Though he preferred confronting his opponents directly, he did acknowledge his Master’s reasoning in allowing them to approach before attacking.

Lancer had only been waiting three minutes before he detecting another Servant’s presence- around the edge of the forest. Would they wait, or would they approach?

It appeared they were waiting; his presence likely deterred them from entering the forest. He thought about pursuing, but Felicia was likely aiming to keep as many Servants as possibly on the outskirts where she could easily observe them. His duty was to stay in place, and observe any who entered in the forest.

Probably.

His Master hadn’t said much before telling him to _just go already_.

Lancer knew that whatever had released the incredible amount of mana had long left; there was a chance it was a Master or Servant’s ploy in pitting every other Servant against each other. An interesting strategy; quite possibly aiming to pick off the survivors of the resulting battle.

Perhaps they were showing consideration by picking the empty forest as a stage?

Lancer scoffed at the idea. Whatever the reasoning was, the beginning of the war was nigh.

* * *

Harold looked up from the ditch Archer had kicked him into, eyeing said Servant with newfound momentary loathing. Who did he think he was, anyway?

Archer was currently holding his bow, peering into the forest to see if he could catch sight of the servant who’d made it there before them.

“Hmph. Our enemy seems to have hidden themselves well,” he commented. Harold brushed dirt off him as he sat up.

“…Enemy…?” the Master grumbled to himself.

“Get down, you fool!” Archer hissed, “don’t let yourself be seen.”

Harold sighed, and slumped back into the ditch.

“You’re not actually going to attack them, are you? There are way too many trees in the way-“

“My sniping ability is unsurpassed. Don’t take me lightly.”

The Servant crouched, eyebrows furrowed as he investigated the ground.

“Fascinating. They did not enter on foot. They’ve left a trail, though. Hm…”

Back on his feet, he narrowed his eyes, lifting his bow slowly.

“Y-you’re not really…gonna…”

“Think of it as a warning shot. A lethal one, provided that they’re foolish or unskilled enough to be unprepared for surprise attacks,” Archer said, readying an arrow.

Harold rose up, ignoring the sniper’s scowl.

“You’ll get in my way-“

“I don’t care! We haven’t even identified what Servant this is, or who their Master is!” the Master yelled.

“As if that matters…”

“Cease your attack on this Servant at once!”

On Harold’s words, a red flash burst from his hand, causing Archer to seize up. The bowman quivered on the spot, grinding his teeth in frustration.

“You’ll come…to regret…wasting this opportunity in the future, _Harold_ ,” he spat as a last line of resistance, before lowering his bow as the Command Seal’s powered compelled him to. Harold let out a sigh of relief, his focus directed on the faded Command Seal on his hand.

* * *

Lancer frowned; the servant on the edge of the forest had yet to make their move. Could they be trying to bait him out? Or were they simply being cautious? Perhaps they were hoping to trap him in the forest…

Whatever they were planning, he would stay put- he needed to wait for other Heroic Spirits to venture into the forest, as a chance to assess or even identify his foes in the war should never go to waste.

Like the one currently drawing near; Lancer could feel a spirit closing in on his position. This one seemed to have ignored the one on the edge of the forest, and gone straight to investigate the mana spike.

Light glittered and gathered below Lancer, revealing a blue haired man. Lancer quietly summoned his spear. It never hurt to be sure, he reasoned.

“I can feel your presence- I won’t ask for a name, but I would ask that you show yourself,” the Servant called out. Lancer’s mouth twitched, showing a ghost of a smile, before he leapt to the ground.

“Greetings,” he said pleasantly, “I am of the Lancer class in this war. You?”

The Servant seemed to be looking at the spear Lancer held. After a moment, a radiant beam of light emerged from his hand, forming a sword shape- but it had no form.

He held up the weapon, concealed by a pure shine, in a swordsman’s salute.

“I am of the Saber class. Tell me, Lancer, are you or your master behind the mana burst unleashed earlier?”

“The true culprit has long left, unfortunately.”

“I see…”

“A question for you, then; are you here to observe…”

Saber’s smile was genuine, but disguised his clear regret.

“…or to fight?” Lancer watched Saber’s movements carefully, as he slowly shook his head at the question.

“…I strongly doubt that you’d volunteer information about yourself willingly.”

“Then…”

Saber tilted his sword downwards, readying it in a combat stance.

 “Yes. My Master expects me to learn about other Servants through combat- whether or not I directly participate.”

Lancer shifted his spear in acknowledgement.

“Very well. A duel it is,” Lancer said. Both began sizing the other up, searching for any weaknesses in their defences. The spear, though mighty in size and shape, seemed dull in comparison to the pure light in Saber’s hand.

Lancer shot forward, thrusting his spear at Saber. Though this strike was deflected, the spearman retained his weapon’s momentum, as it blurred into a silver circle. The swordsman’s cape fluttered as he ducked under the spear’s sweeping arc, his blade clashing with the spear. The recoil threw Saber backwards.

In a split second, Lancer jabbed his spear forward several times, striking at Saber like lightning. The swordsman weaved and dodged each attack with incredible precision; after sidestepping one aimed at his body, he sprung at Lancer, aiming for his head. In response, Lancer pulled his spear back in defence.

Though he blocked the blow, Lancer was not entirely unscathed; a small gash on his cheek opened, blood trickling out. But he made no sign of acknowledging it. Rather, his focus was on Saber, stood only a few feet away, sword angled downwards.

The swordsman made no indication of going on the offensive, so the spearman took intiative again, launching himself into the air, twisting in place. He hurtled at Saber only a moment later, his spear crashing to the ground, demolishing any trees or wildlife around it.

It had missed its target, but Lancer had expected this; he had a good read on Saber’s agility after their first exchange.

Saber was in the air, surrounded by debris; he had little room to react as Lancer planted his feet on the ground, ripping his spear from where it had been embedded, and swinging it directly at the airborne servant.

Saber’s hand reached out, grabbing the polearm in the split second before it struck him, and using it to fling himself further into the air. As he flew at the spearman, he swung the light in his hand, deflecting another strike, and flipped over his opponent. The swordsman’s follow up was aimed at Lancer’s chest, but was blocked by the bottom of the polearm.

Saber backflipped away from Lancer’s next attack, creating distance between them. Neither made an immediate move.

Then, after a few seconds, Saber relaxed, tilting his head from side to side. He was likely looking around at the destruction their fight had caused.

“Your spear is rather powerful. A shame you can’t seem to keep up with me- though, I suppose I should be counting my blessings here.” Saber’s small smile showed confidence, but held no arrogance.

“…Indeed. Few could survive a single hit from it. Do you think you can run away forever?” Lancer did not share his foe’s expression, preparing his spear for more combat.

“So…will this fight come down to one of us slipping up? Or will you stop holding back on me, Lancer?”

The spearman paused, betraying no reaction.

“You should be aware of how to make use of such a powerful weapon. Yet, you refuse to show any of your true skill. Why, Lancer?”

Lancer straightened up, supressing a sigh.

“An astute observation. I was being conservative with my strength, gauging your abilities without showing too much of mine- but I can see this has only been an insult to you. My apologies, Saber. If you so wish, I will cease this farce at once. But know this…in doing so, you are putting your life in great peril.”

Saber’s silence was all Lancer needed; he stepped towards the tree he’d been hiding in, and tore down a bush beside it.

“I am a paladin- in life, few matched my skill on a mount.”

The paladin climbed onto his motorbike, revving its engine, spear in one hand.

“…Here I come, Saber.”

Saber offered another swordsman’s salute, and swung the light in his hand downward to his combat-ready stance.

“I accept your challenge, Lancer. Come at me.”

* * *

Kerry shivered. It was late, and he was outside for reasons beyond his comprehension. The rather charming and cute girl he’d met several nights ago was leading him out of the city, for some reason, and he was too sleep deprived to refuse.

“Are you alright, Master?” the girl’s gaze was empty of emotion, her voice thin. Kerry noted that his definition of ‘charming’ was incredibly loose.

“I’m hungry. I want to sleep,” Kerry responded. The girl did not look remotely sympathetic.

“I apologise, Master. However, this is something we must see.”

“Can’t you go on your own?” the young man whined.

“No. You must be by my side at all times. For your own good. You have no power of your own, and so I must protect you,” the Servant said, as if reciting a speech. Kerry groaned.

“Fine, fine…so where the hell are we going…Caster?”

The name felt so awkward and unfamiliar to say out loud.

“The forest. The mana unleashed there was discharged from some kind of powerful magical object or device- possibly even the Fire Emblem,” Caster explained. Kerry paused, chewing this information in his mind.

“That’s the thing we’re looking for, right?”

Caster nodded simply.

“Still, er, struggling to accept the existence of magic, honestly.”

Caster apparently ignored Kerry’s comment, as she had no response. Though Kerry felt as if an eternity had passed, it didn’t take long for them to reach the edge of the forest, where both stopped.

“…Master. It is imperative you stay close from here on out,” Caster said.

“Eh? Close?” Kerry’s imagination exploded into a colourful cloud of fantasies, his face bright red. His Servant did not seem to notice.

“There are several other Heroic Spirits here…we must be careful not to get spotted by them while we observe.”

Kerry barely registered what she said, dumbly staring in the general direction of her. Caster blinked, and firmly grabbed her Master’s arm, tugging him into the forest. He blubbered in confusion as she steered him through the dark, dense cluster of trees.

“Please watch your step, Master. Make as little sound as you can.”

“Wh- hwa- s…sure…”

Eventually, amidst the murky shroud of darkness, Kerry could hear and feel tremendous clashes, like thunder, striking mere feet away. Terror struck him instantly, his feet stalling their next step instinctively.

Kerry’s mind grinded to a complete standstill, and he knew, in a single moment, he shouldn’t be even close to whatever was happening in this forest. He should be far, far away from this battle. Anywhere else.

Not here.

Caster tugged on his arm, but he would not budge; he stared into her golden eyes with nothing but childish fear. The Servant blankly stared back, failing to comprehend her Master’s horror.

Another almighty clash erupted, Kerry staggering backwards in response.

“Ah…”

His breathing became erratic. He felt an overwhelming sensation of power from the fighting Heroic Spirits. He fell to the ground, his backside dropping directly onto a rock. The pain didn’t register.

Caster looked down to him, calculating the reasoning behind his actions. Eventually, she turned away from him.

“We will stop here, then. Please do not stand up, Master. It is safer on the ground.”

“B-fuh-wuh-uhhh…”

Kerry recoiled in shock when another tremendous clash rang out, his head colliding against a tree behind him. His ears started ringing as he sat up in a daze. Caster, on the other hand, seemed fine, watching the battle from behind the layers of trees separating them.

“Saber…and Rider? Or Lancer, with a riding skill…” she muttered under her breath, “both seem…formidable.”

The mage backed away from the tree, tapping her Master on the shoulder. Kerry blearily looked up, nursing a lump on his head.

“Master. Eliminating our enemies here may prove to be more difficult than anticipated.”

“Ugh…my left ear is buzzing, that can’t be good…”

“I don’t sense any strong sources of mana around here, so it’s likely whatever was unleashed earlier was meant to lure in as many Servants and Masters as possible.”

“This is worse than being drunk. I think I cracked my ass. But at least I don’t think I need to throw up…yet.”

“It would be worth testing how these two deal with my magic. But we must be ready to escape immediately. Are you ready, Master?”

Kerry rose up, boldly attempting to keep his balance whilst struggling to find his footing. Though it took him the better part of a minute, he managed to stand up straight, looking his Servant in the eye.

“Let’s do this,” he said, falling onto his backside again.

* * *

Saber and Lancer’s bout had several witnesses, but few of them could keep up with the intensity of their duel. With a mount, Lancer’s speed had amplified, and his control over his weapon was flawless.

He had yet to land a single blow, yet he had no openings to exploit.

Evading and blocking were all Saber could do; his shining blade didn’t have the range to strike the paladin, whose speed and sharp turns were a challenge to match. But the swordsman was calm, and did not falter, handling his foe’s movements gracefully.

It was a battle of attrition. A stalemate, until one of them ran out of energy.

Lancer couldn’t understand it. How was Saber keeping up?

Whenever he thrusted, Saber would twist to the side, parrying the spearhead, as if he knew it was coming.

Whenever he swiped, Saber would hop backwards, and use the opening to leap forwards; but he wasn’t fast enough to capitalise on it.

And whenever he feinted- which was rare- Saber always knew it was a bluff, without fail.

There were several explanations for this. But he didn’t have time to ponder on it; right now, he had to figure out Saber’s strategy. Was he holding back, trying to bait his Noble Phantasm out?

It just simply wouldn’t do to reveal his trump card so early. Just how long could Saber keep this up, anyway?

As Lancer began another charge, he felt a sudden overwhelming chill surround him. He frowned when his foe halted also, looking for the source of the temperature drop.

“Behind you!” Saber yelled; Lancer glanced back, barely raising his weapon in time to destroy the oncoming icicle spear. Ice slowly encased the trees surrounding the clearing; jagged edges shot out of the trapped trees, with the intent of attacking the two servants.

Saber was already leaping away from the assault, sprinting towards the exit of the forest. Although tempted to chase down the cause of the freezing magic- most likely this war’s Caster- Lancer was at a disadvantage, and prioritised escaping from a potential cold death.

His bike accelerated forwards, and using his lance to destroy any obstacles, he sped out of the forest.

* * *

“Did you at least get a good look at them, Harold?”

Archer had hid his weapon, watching the events in the forest whilst leaning against a tree near his master’s hiding spot. He had done nothing while two servants had exited the forest in a hurry.

“Uh…I was able to get a read on the one on a bike…”

“And?”

“He’s strong. Very strong. And uh- probably not Rider.”

Archer took a moment to chew this information mentally, and then let out a sigh. His gaze was focused somewhere in the forest.

“Doesn’t look like Caster is pursuing…should we go in?”

Harold gulped loudly and shook his head, fearing the inevitable reprimand from his Servant.

But Archer merely rolled his eyes.

“Figured you might…say…that?”

His eyes paused mid-roll, fixated on the night sky. His master scowled in confusion as he watched his servant grin.

“Master, look. Up above the forest.”

“I don’t see anything…are you making fun of me?” Harold whined; the way his Servant had said ‘Master’ was loaded with insincerity.

“Look through my eyes, fool,” Archer growled in irritation. Harold complied, closing his eyes to see what his Servant was seeing.

Barely visible among the clouds and stars was a wyvern, circling above the forest, observing the Servants below. A moving, easy target for an Archer.

“That must be Rider…” Harold murmured. He opened his eyes to find Archer holding his bow.

“May I?”

Harold appreciated, at the very least, that his Servant was asking for permission to attack. Perhaps using that Command Seal had been a good idea after all…

“I suppose…try not to kill them, though.”

“I’ll do my best,” Archer responded dryly, readying an arrow.

Archers, as the natural enemy of all that fly, possess the ‘Anti-Air’ class skill. With this skill, finding and following fliers is an effortless endeavour, as is striking the weak point of those targeted. Harold’s Archer, holding an A rank in this skill, could spot any flier across the island on a clear day or night, and finish any kind of mount off with one arrow, provided they are not a true dragon.

In short…

This Rider was in for a nasty fall.

Without hesitation, Archer let loose his arrow, which hurtled towards Rider at breakneck speed. Harold couldn’t hope to follow it, so his gaze swapped between a vague area in the sky and his Servant.

“Direct hit…”

Archer allowed himself a small smirk, while his Master winced at the thought of what had happened to Rider.

After a pause, Archer begun frowning.

Then, Archer slowly went pale.

After that, Archer’s expression turned aghast.

“…Shit.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask…”

“We need to bail. _Now_.”

“But-“

The Servant clenched his teeth.

“It was bait- I don’t know how they survived, but- they’re coming straight for us, fast. I was careless- I should have attacked from inside the forest. Damn! We need to retreat!”

Though panicking, and lacking full comprehension of the situation, Harold nodded, and hastily grabbed the vials in his pocket, emptying them onto the ground. His Servant raised an eyebrow, but his doubts were washed away when the puddles began to rise into the air and take their shapes.

Decoys.

“Range?” Archer asked, grabbing his Master, readying himself to leap away.

“Uh- wuh- they’ll stay like that for five minutes- or if they’re forcibly dispelled- ack-“

Nodding, Archer dashed away into the forest, as Rider hurtled towards the decoys, destroying them and the ground they stood on with a single strike.

But the flying Servant did not pursue, and after several moments, the forest was silent once more.


	3. Day Two/Night Two

- _Sometime, Somewhere_ -

_The girl is burdened by memories of the lonely house, covered in snow._

_The freshest, most vivid of them all was the day it all ended._

_Cowering under a table as she watched the intruder pull out a gun and shoot her parents before her very eyes._

_Was what she feared…the intruder?_

_Or was it…death?_

_Her father, a mage carrying generations after generations’ worth of secrets. Dead before he could even retaliate._

_Her mother, frozen in terror at the sight of her husband’s body. Dead before she could even scream._

_The girl watched this all._

_But as her parent’s bodies fell…_

_She felt nothing._

_She felt no sadness from their death. Nor any pleasure._

_Though they had looked after and loved her for nearly a decade, she cannot even shed a single tear._

_All she can do is flee the house she’d grown up in, leaving behind everything she’d ever known, to find somewhere else to live her life. She feels no hatred or ill will towards her parents’ killer; in fact, she can barely remember their existence. They had departed as quickly as they had intruded._

_She wants to forget everything._

_She wants to leave it all behind in the snow._

_The girl wishes for another life._

* * *

- _Day Two_ -

The sun had barely risen, and only the faintest sliver of light peaked through the small hole in the curtains. But it was enough to stir Adelina from her light slumber, causing her to groan and wince.

“Where…” she mumbled, straining her eyes to take in her surroundings. In this poor lighting, she could only make out a dusty, abandoned bedroom-

“Oh…this isn’t the church.”

Every morning was the same thing. Waking up, remembering her situation, attempting to hold back her tears…

She’d slept against the wall again…and been covered with a blanket at some point during the night.

Biting her lip, Adelina took a deep breath.

“A-assassin? Are you here…?”

With no warning or sound, a man knelt beside her. Although well-built and taller than the teenaged girl, he had a minimal presence; even when looking at him at such a close range, he seemed to blend in with the background of the unfamiliar room.

The servant held out a roll of bread and a bottle of water.

“Eat. I’ll find more later while I search for somewhere to hide you.”

Assassin’s voice was deep, but quiet; a reflection of himself.

Adelina tentatively took his offerings, realising how hungry she was, and how little she’d eaten in the past few days.

“You…stole these, didn’t you…?”

“…I did what I must.”

It didn’t sit well with Adelina, who had been brought up in a church, following principles of kindness, peace, and appreciation of others. Stealing was wrong, and she had never even considered trying it once.

She hated the idea of murder even more- the Assassin class definitely wasn’t suited for her.

…For starters, she didn’t actually want to be involved in this war. It wasn’t her right to have this role as a Master, and she would never be able to return home now. Perhaps she should have obeyed her uncle, and cooperated-

No, that was wrong too.

Maybe she should have simply accepted death.

Abruptly shaking her head, Adelina began nibbling on the bread, praying to Naga for forgiveness with each mouthful.

After a few bites, she paused, and returned her attention to Assassin.

“You said you’re going to look for somewhere else to hide me? Why?” she inquired.

“…Many of our enemies gathered at the forest to the west last night. It may be better to move eastwards as a precaution.”

Assassin’s red eyes were level with his Master’s; they betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

“Uhm…” Adelina hesitated before speaking her mind, “can it be somewhere…comfier…than here?”

There was a silent pause, and the girl worried she’d overstepped her bounds.

“…I’ll do my best,” Assassin simply said, rising to his feet, “use a Command Seal to call for me if you are attacked. I won’t be long.”

Adelina didn’t argue, despite how little she desired to be left alone, allowing her gaze to fall back to her breakfast.

“Okay…” she mumbled, nibbling at the bread again. Before she realised it, her Servant had vanished without a trace.

Adelina was all alone, in the dark, with nothing to think about but her own awful situation.

* * *

Gracia’s pick for a meetup spot that morning was the Nagilis Port Observation Tower, formerly a lighthouse on the north-eastern coast of the city. Although old, it was still relatively tall, and provided a nice view of the city; perfect for newly arrived tourists, coming in by boat.

During the early hours of the morning, it was relatively deserted, Saber noticed. It didn’t take him long to find his master on the outside platform, leaning on the railings…

…with an ice cream?

“Ah, you’re here, Saber,” Gracia remarked between licks. The Servant could only blankly stare in response, feeling the sharp, cool port breeze on this cold morning.

Saber could only think of how strange this was; perhaps Gracia did not feel the cold?

Or maybe she just really liked ice cream?

“What? Were you followed?” the woman cut through Saber’s thought process sternly.

“Ah- no, I was just- nevermind.”

Gracia blinked, and returned to idly gazing at the city.

“I see. What did you learn last night?”

Her expression didn’t change, even when getting straight to the point. Saber nodded, mentally sorting anything useful he might have learnt while watching his Master impassively lick her plain-looking ice cream, her blonde hair gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Four other servants gathered. I duelled with Lancer, was attacked by Caster, and felt two others- the one in the sky may have been Rider on a flying mount.”

The woman nodded.

“A logical deduction. And the source of the mana spike?”

“I couldn’t locate it- Lancer claimed the perpetrator left before I entered the forest.”

Gracia gave a small, almost disinterested _m_ ’ _hm_ in response. Was she sceptical?

“Tell me about Lancer,” she said, between more licks.

“On a mount…he showed an incredible amount of strength and skill. He’s not to be taken lightly.”

“What did he look like?”

“He- uh…”

Saber frowned, his mouth twisting into a grimace, as he tried to recall his opponent’s appearance.

What…did he look like, anyway?

How strange. He was sure he’d gotten several good looks at him- and there was definitely something striking about his face…

“I don’t recall. Even after I saw him- I can’t remember his appearance…my apologies, Master. I’ve-“

“A skill that blocks your memories, then. Or perhaps a Noble Phantasm similar to yours. Interesting,” Gracia said, paying little heed to her Servant’s stressed look and apologies.

Only the bitter sea breeze populated the following otherwise empty silence that weighed on Saber. Although his Master’s reasoning was sound, he still couldn’t shake the feeling he’d let her down already.

“Relax, Saber. You can take him, right?”

A moment of hesitation.

“It depends…on what his Noble Phantasm is.”

Gracia did not respond, electing to focus on her ice cream, lost in thought. The sun rose higher, painting the sky a familiar light blue.

“Hm…good work, Saber. Try to avoid any more skirmishes for now. We’ll meet again tonight.”

“Okay…then, I will take my leave…thank you, Master.”

Saber faded into the wind, leaving Gracia to finish her ice cream in peace.

* * *

A young man staggered through the streets of the Central district, clutching his stomach and wincing with each laboured step. Every breath he took was agonising, his face displaying the full extent of his pain.

“Master…”

He ignored the voice behind him, taking another step forward.

“Master, please…”

His teeth began grinding in frustration.

“It’s not safe in public, mas-“

“Caster! I am fucking _dying_!” Kerry cried, wheeling on his Servant.

“Are you hurt…? I made sure you went unharmed last night…”

“I need food, idiot! It’s been a whole day since I’ve eaten!”

Caster didn’t seem sure how to respond, other than once again attempting to support her Master- who, in his sour mood, batted her away, and dug his wallet out of his pocket.

“Fuck…this is gonna be my last meal, isn’t it…?”

Kerry really wished a shop would open somewhere in this town. He didn’t care what kind of food was available, he just wanted something to save him from starvation. Alas, this early in the morning, few establishments were open.

In a stroke of good fortune- or, perhaps, the work of some divine intervention- Kerry found himself in front of a restaurant with an open door before his legs gave out.

“Uh, Caster?”

“Yes, Master?”

“S…stay out here, and, er, guard me. Yeah.”

Caster’s unflinching gold eyes did not even blink as she processed the order.

“Very well. I shall stand guard here.”

Kerry let out a deep sigh of relief, stepping into the dark, almost empty restaurant. The only person inside was a man with mullet, crouching behind the counter.

“Eh…’scuse me, are you open for orders right now…?” Kerry nervously asked.

“A customer…?” a deep, pronounced voice replied, “very well. Take a seat. I will provide shortly.”

“Thanks…”

Collapsing onto a seat near a window, Kerry propped his head up on his hand, and closely watched the man stand up, turn around, and begin cooking…something. He was dressed in…priest’s clothing?

Minutes passed at an excruciatingly slow rate, as Kerry’s stomach threatened to implode, made worse by the anticipation of food. Food that…

“Wait, what are you making?”

The priest let out a condescending chuckle in response.

“For two…” he muttered, glancing back at Kerry, “no, three.”

The young man blinked in confusion, unable to spot anyone else in the restaurant aside from…

…right next to him?

“Gah?! Why are you- how did you even-“

Caster was quietly sat next to her Master, her gaze directed on the view outside the window. She made no sign of reacting to Kerry’s exaggerated shock.

“In the case that there are any enemies in this area, it would be wiser to not draw attention to ourselves.”

Standing outside anywhere alone is bound to look vaguely suspicious to anyone passing. The logic made sense, but…

Kerry had really wished he could have gotten more alone time. This ‘Servant’ was getting suffocating to be around, and she refused to let him out of her sight for even a moment. He was getting tired of being called a Master, too.

After the scare he’d had last night, the young man really was starting to understand the negative effects of excessive drinking and potential drug use.

Drink too much, do dumb shit, regret it for several days after.

A sigh escaped his lips, but he didn’t question Caster further; the priest had approached with three bowls of…something. After placing it before the duo, the priest sat down opposite them with his own bowl.

“What…is this?” though he had no room to complain about food being presented to him, there was something about this bowl that struck a chord of fear within Kerry’s heart.

“Mapu tofu. Feel free to dig in.”

“The hell is mapu tofu?”

A smooth, shiteating grin spread on the tall man’s face.

“Delicious.”

With great trepidation, and a clear scowl, Kerry raised a spoonful of the…substance…to his mouth, and shoved it in his mouth before he gave himself time to reconsider.

“Ah- ahh- It’s hot- ow ow owww…”

“Master, what’s wrong?”

“Spicy- hot- fuck-“

Fearing for his life, Kerry reached for a glass of water…which did not exist on this table.

“Help, help, help!”

Inhaling and exhaling rapidly, the young man felt his eyes tear up in response to the overwhelming heat in his mouth. Caster grabbed Kerry’s shoulder, and raised her hand to his mouth.

He paused for a moment, now blushing and panicking over physical contact with a girl, and felt an icy chill in his mouth.

“Calm down, Master. This should cool your mouth down.”

“Awaa…”

A gentle glow was emitting from Caster’s hand; her ice magic gently cooled the inside of Kerry’s mouth until it went totally numb. The young man was frozen in place, his cheeks bright pink, until he heard another condescending chuckle from across the table.

Kerry’s glare turned into a mystified look when he noticed the priest was visibly sweating, his nostrils flaring as he chewed the mapu tofu.

“Mmph…n-nothing goes down a…as well as this.”

“Wh-what the hell is w-wrong with y-you?” Kerry said, unable to speak properly with his numb mouth, “are you s-seriously the owner of th-this place?”

“Hm? No. I just…mmm…needed to b-borrow the ingredients….in this…mmph…establishment...to make this,” the priest said, swallowing another mouthful of the devilish food he’d made.

“R-right…”

Exasperated, Kerry glanced over to his servant, whose calm, level gaze rested on a spoonful from her own bowl of mapu tofu. Raising his eyebrow, the young man briefly wondered what her reaction to it was going to be.

Perhaps, for the first time, her stoic nature would break, and she would get flustered until she used her own magic…?

Caster took the plunge; Kerry watched intently as she slowly bit down, chewed, and swallowed the spoonful. After a few moments, the girl let out a sharp breath.

Silence fell…aside from the priest’s laboured breathing.

“Ah…” she turned to meet Kerry’s eyes, “I think I…”

Master and Servant held eye contact, the former awaiting the latter’s outburst.

“…I want more.”

“Y-you like it?!”

Caster turned back to her bowl, the smallest of frowns building on her face.

“So…this is what it means to…like something…? To want more?”

“Huh- uh, yeah, I guess…”

“I see. In that case…” Caster took another spoonful, and continued eating the mapu tofu.

“At least someone’s enjoying themselves…” Kerry muttered, glaring at his own bowl as if it’d risen from hell just to torture him.

“Eat, boy, and r…hnn…rejoice…you won’t be…mmm…getting another free meal…this good…mmph…after I leave this island today…”

With his stomach loudly reminding him of his own hunger, Kerry begrudgingly dug another spoonful of mapu tofu, sending one last filthy look at the malignant priest.

* * *

With a final, repetitive series of _clicks_ and _snaps_ , Felicia closed the case on the last of the surveillance bots, and leaned back in her seat, stretching victoriously. A vicious, aggressive yawn followed; she didn’t care about the Servant behind her and what he might think of such a crass display.

“Sheesh…that only took me a whole day.”

“Well done, Master. Would you like me to spread the devices out into the city while you rest?” Lancer offered graciously. Felicia wheeled around in her chair, facing him directly.

“No. We still need to talk about last night, for starters.”

Lancer did not respond, instead waiting for her to continue.

“Y’know, when I gave you that bike, I was sorta hoping you’d…not immediately show it off?”

“I understand that. However, Saber was…more trouble than I anticipated,” Lancer responded solemnly. Felicia’s scowl remained fixed in place until she let out a defeated sigh.

“Whatever. You didn’t use your Noble Phantasm, at least,” she said, before narrowing her eyes, “so? What did you learn about Saber?”

“…Not as much as I’d hoped to, I’m afraid. All his movements were in response to my own; not only did he seem familiar with my fighting style, he was able to pinpoint any openings, even if he wasn’t able to capitalise on them. However…”

Felicia raised an eyebrow when Lancer paused.

“However?”

“…The number of swordsmen that are able to keep up with me like that- and are that familiar with how I fight- is a very low number indeed.”

The mage idly spun in her seat, facing the vast array of monitors as she thought.

“His efforts to hide his identity worked against him, huh? So you’re saying-”

“This is speculation, Master. Nothing definite…yet.”

Felicia understood what her Servant was saying; it would be unwise to act of this information alone…but it was a useful clue to bear in mind, for now.

“Right, right, I gotcha,” she said dismissively, fighting off another yawn, “I think I need a power nap before I start laying these critters out…hey. Take about six of them, and lay them out on your way to the forest.”

“The forest?”

“Yeah, may as well check if there are any clues left over from last night.”

Lancer picked up six small devices, and made to exit, stopping only to say one thing.

“Rest well, Master…”

* * *

The war had truly begun.

Friedemann had spent the morning offering prayers and thanks to Naga for the previous night’s show, and was now flicking through the tome he carried on his person at all times. He had his role as mediator to fulfil, which meant remaining in the church at all times, in the case that masters seek sanctuary or inquire basic information about the war.

It left him dissatisfied.

He wanted…more.

But that went against his position, his role.

So all Friedemann could do was wait for more to happen.

He had purified himself of all ill feelings towards his niece; it was his own fault for underestimating her, and he was lucky to have been spared by the Heroic Spirit she summoned.

And she had left behind all means of protecting herself. Adelina would be completely reliant on Assassin…a burden on a class of Heroic Spirit she was already completely incompatible with.

The priest could not help but emit a low chuckle.

However, his continued thought process was cut off by the creaking of the church doors opening, the afternoon light spilling through the entranceway. A figure took two steps inside, observing its surroundings before gazing at Friedemann, who gave a small bow in greeting.

“Welcome, traveller. For what reason do you seek Naga’s guiding light?”

Gold eyes bore into his skull, red lips twisting into a smirk.

“So…you’re the overseer?”

“Correct. I am Father Friedemann Scheuer. And you…?”

The figure- a woman- sauntered closer, snickering.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” the woman said, sharply twisting her focus to the hooded figure, sat near the back of the church, “…what is that…thing?”

“That…is an esteemed guest. Do not concern yourself with it; it will be asleep for much longer than you will be staying here.”

“Oh my…very well,” the woman shifted her attention back to Friedemann, “tell me, priest. Where is the Fire Emblem?”

A tense silence filled the holy building.

“Pff…huhu…hahaha…”

Friedemann erupted with howling, mocking laughter, sneering at the woman before him, whose expression turned into a challenging smirk.

“I take this as a sign that you will not be cooperating?”

“The Fire Emblem will appear before the victor. All participants of the war know this. That’s all there is to it.”

“Nonsense. The Emblem exists in this world as soon as the war starts. How else can Heroic Spirits be summoned without its power?” the woman said, her long, black hair beginning to dance in the air, “this is your last chance. Tell me where it is before I use force.”

The air twisted around the woman, ruffling her clothes and hair as she raised her hand threateningly. Friedemann closed his eyes in momentary contemplation.

“Begin.”

A blade of wind struck at the priest with no hesitation, ripping up the ground beneath him with its tremendous force.

“H-how…?” the woman grit her teeth in shock, “that was a clean hit!”

Friedemann- completely unharmed- calmly drew out a small vial from his pocket.

“Holy water is the ultimate protector against magic, and of course, the church has an abundance of it…I’m very aware of my role in this war, and how folk like you will come after me, so it doesn’t hurt to keep myself anointed.”

The woman’s foot slid backwards, her plan having backfired. A ball of light emerged from the priest’s hand, pulsating forcefully in the air.

“I advise that you leave now. If you have any further questions, why not ask my niece?”

In an attempt to hold on to her dignity, the woman briskly turned and left, bearing a sour expression on her face.

After watching her leave, the priest stared down at the broken floor, and groaned.

“I suppose I’m the one cleaning up, then…”

* * *

An empty villa, on the busy side of the city, with multiple exits, including an underground tunnel leading off the property, and some food stocked up by its actual owners.

For a temporary hideout, it had everything Adelina needed.

The sun was starting to set, and Assassin had done what he needed to, so all that remained was bringing his Master to the new hiding place. It didn’t take him long to dash across town- he was beginning to become familiar with the layout- and by the time he was back at the edge of the city, the sun was still barely in the sky.

A powerful sensation washed over Assassin, causing him to freeze in place; another Servant was close by. From his vantage point on top of a house, he spotted a blonde man dismounting from a motorbike, and laying down a small object on the pavement.

After a few seconds, it zoomed down the street and up a wall, away from sight. Seemingly content with this, the Servant climbed back onto his vehicle, and drove off down the street, utterly unaware he was being watched.

Not ideal, as he was heading in the general direction of Adelina- not to mention that small device the servant had dropped was likely bad news.

Since there was nothing to gain from standing idle, Assassin continued racing back to Adelina at full speed.

* * *

- _Night Two_ -

With the last surveillance device set loose, and the forest seemingly devoid of any clues or signs of life, Lancer felt no reason to stick around, and begun to head back to Felicia. He’d taken his time in making his way over to his destination, carefully watching out for the presence of any enemy Servants or Masters.

However, aside from a brief period where he felt as though he was being watched, he had found nothing.

It was the outcome he had expected, but it never hurt to be sure.

As he sped back to the inner city, he failed to notice a gold eyed, black haired girl and a young man walking down a quiet street in passing.

But these two did not escape the attention of a woman, sulking in the shadows; Gracia, although staying at a distance to avoid being noticed, had identified the gold-eyed girl as something inhuman.

The young man was hunched over, seemingly in pain, but the girl was oddly impassive about that, merely matching his pace with a neutral expression.

A Master and Servant?

It was hard to make out the boy’s appearance…

But why would he have his Servant out like this…provided that she was, indeed, his Servant?

Gracia could feel something was out of place here- she had an eye for unusual folk, and was typically able to discern mages from normal people- so, in the likely event she was right, this was likely an amateur Master.

The mage was tempted to attack this potential target now, and be rid of an enemy early on, but she resolved to follow them for a while instead. There was a chance that they were totally unrelated to the war; in which case, she would be murdering an innocent, which she tried to avoid when possible.

And, in the case of the girl actually being a Servant, Gracia had no idea how powerful she was; should she defend her Master against her attack, then her identity would be made clear.

Caution was the word of the day…and besides, Gracia definitely knew when and how to analyse and engage an enemy. All she had to do was keep her distance, and watching…and waiting.

* * *

Assassin’s instructions were clear.

When possible, find empty streets.

Don’t stop to talk to anyone.

Avoid brightly lit areas.

Adelina didn’t object to being told what to do, since it was all for her own safety, but the last instruction was a mystery to her. Wouldn’t it make more sense to avoid darker areas at night?

It wasn’t her place to argue, though; she wasn’t exactly experienced with survival situations of any form.

Besides, Assassin was close by, following her whilst remaining hidden. The idea was to minimalize any chances of enemies recognising her as a Master, which meant keeping her Servant hidden, hiding her Command Seals from view, and acting as normally as a 14 year-old girl can do during a night time stroll.

It wasn’t likely that she’d come across anyone involved in the war while heading to her new hideaway, but Assassin was cautious, and Adelina had no reason to argue.

She’d only come across a handful of people so far, and was fortunately able to sulk past them, hands in pockets, without even exchanging eye contact. The young girl was getting tired and hungry, but the promise of a bed and food drove her forwards.

After a silent few minutes, Adelina noticed a couple coming towards her. Aside from the man looking melodramatic, there wasn’t anything unusual about them, so she resolved to walk past them without making eye contact-

But that’s when her eyes met the gold eyes of the woman.

The young girl froze in place momentarily, illuminated by the street lamp above, and was spotted by the man before she could move again.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, turning to his companion, “stop scaring the kid, Caster, c’mon…”

“…Caster…?”

It took every ounce of energy and self-restraint Adelina still possessed not to panic on the spot. Her breathing became heavier, and she couldn’t hide the surprise off her face.

“Huh? Oh- that’s her nickname, ahah. I know it’s weird, but- yeah. Uh…my name’s Kerry, which is completely normal, so…er…what’s yours?”

“…Adelina…Scheuer…” Adelina mindlessly responded. Her brain had gone numb, processing what she’d just encountered.

An enemy.

He was still clueless, and she could still get away, but…

Her reasoning had become a fleeting memory.

“Haha, that’s…sorta normal, I guess- uh, you okay?” the man- Caster’s Master- had stopped talking for the sake of talking after finally noticing Adelina’s terror-stricken face. Caster, on the other hand, still had her detached gaze focused on the girl.

Adelina opened her mouth to speak, but no sound formed; she instinctively took a step back. Kerry, frowning in concern, reached out in an attempt to grab her shoulder, but his arm was swatted away by a hand…bearing Adelina’s Command Seals.

The cat was out of the bag.

“Ah,” Kerry said with a blank look, turning to his Servant, “those are…Command thingies…right?”

“Yes, Master…this is one of our enemies-”

Caster couldn’t finish her statement; Assassin had appeared instantly, without a sound, holding a dagger against Kerry’s throat. He said nothing, his red eyes coldly warning Caster and her Master away.

Adelina was rooted to the spot; her relief was replaced with another fear.

Was Assassin about to…kill this man?

“Release him.”

“…Back off.”

The exchange between the two Servants was concise, and Caster raised her hand in Adelina’s direction. Her expression hadn’t changed in the slightest, despite the danger her Master was in.

Adelina noticed the temperature decrease…was it Caster’s magic at work?

“Please help…” Kerry whined, quivering in fear.

“Assassin. Are you willing to take the chance?” Caster said, lacking the challenging tone her statement suggested.

Would his blade be quick enough to cut through both Kerry’s throat and Caster’s attack?

A tense, crushing pause filled the air.

Neither Servant made a move.

But while Assassin deliberated, the air grew colder, making his decision for him-

In the instance a jagged shard of ice shot out of Caster’s hand, it shattered into dust; Assassin had cleanly swung his dagger to destroy the projectile, and was now standing in front of Adelina.

Another stagnant pause.

Kerry fell onto his ass, now free from Assassin’s threat, muttering various expletives not usually spoken within the hearing range of a 14 year-old.

Thorns of ice shot towards Adelina and her Servant, the latter of which destroyed the attacks with swift strikes, dashing forwards to close the distance between him and his foe. It wasn’t enough, though; the now-frigid air was blowing chunks of ice, increasing in size, slowing Assassin’s movement.

As Adelina was pelted by Caster’s hail, she realised that the last of her holy water must have worn off days ago.

Not helpful.

Caster’s dominance was building. Frost was spreading on the ground, the aerial assault’s intensity was growing, and spikes of ice were rising, jutting towards Assassin. His ability to defend himself against Caster’s magic was decreasing with every passing moment; in moments, the gold-eyed Servant would be able to find an opening.

Although gritting his teeth, Assassin had not lost his cool. Instead of defending himself against the oncoming spears of ice, he swung a dagger at the nearby streetlamp, bathing the Masters and Servants in darkness.

Caster frowned at the strange move, but Kerry’s words articulated her thoughts…to a degree.

“W-w-where the fffuck did th-th-they g-go?”

He hadn’t taken the initiative to stand away from the combat zone, leading him to feel the chill, but that wasn’t Caster’s main concern.

As soon as the light was shut off, Assassin’s speed had apparently increased exponentially, allowing him to grab his Master and flee within seconds. But…how?

The cold winds and ice hadn’t stopped when the lights went out, so…

Was the light holding Assassin back?

“C-caster…” Kerry had finally moved into a warmer space, and called out to his Servant.

“Ah…Master. I’m sorry. I let them escape,” Caster responded, as inexpressive as ever.

“No, no, it’s fine…it’s kinda fucked up that a girl her age is in this deathmatch…war…thing, so I’d feel bad if she actually got hurt,” he said, waving off Caster’s apology, “wait, was she a magic person too? Er, what was her name again? Adelina…shoe? Shoe-y?”

“Scheuer…” Caster muttered, lost in thought, “Master. Please do not concern yourself with the welfare of your enemies. They will not care about how you feel about them when they try to kill you.”

Kerry’s mouth twitched uncomfortably, but he nodded in dissent.

“I will protect you, Master. That is…my duty.”

* * *

The quiet, dark room, illuminated only by the moon, had only two occupants at this time of night. Although it was office space, everyone had long left for the night, making it a useful meetup location for Gracia and Saber.

Gracia had made herself at home on the old sofa, while Saber stood near a window, his mask concealing where his eyes were looking.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to report…I did notice Lancer was up to something in the forest, but I didn’t get too close in order to avoid confrontation,” Saber said.

“Hm…I noticed him too. One has to wonder what he’s up to…”

When her Servant didn’t respond, Gracia continued, “I also caught an interesting fight before I got here. Caster, Assassin, and both their Masters- neither of which look experienced in combat.”

“Caster? Did they use ice magic?”

“Yes. Couldn’t gauge her range, but it seemed pretty strong. She managed to give Assassin a hard time with it.”

Saber nodded in understanding.

“It looks like Assassin has an advantage in the darkness, but that won’t be any trouble for you. His Master is a young girl…hm.”

“Master?”

“…Tomorrow, I’m going to track down Assassin’s Master. I want you to look for Caster. She has gold eyes, and black hair.”

As far as Gracia was concerned, Saber would be able to beat either Servant with no real challenge; but there was no doubt that Assassin- and by extension, his Master- would be tough to find. Gracia, with her years of experience in hunting down targets, would be well more suited to searching for Assassin than Saber.

“I understand. I’ll go imm-“

“Oh, I still need you for one more thing,” the mage cut Saber off, leaning back and then lying on the sofa. Saber’s inquisitive frown was apparent from her mouth alone.

“I’m sleeping for three hours. Keep a lookout during that time, ‘kay?”


	4. Day Three

- _Day Three_ -

Tensions in Harold’s hotel room- what should have been his place of comfort- were at an all-time high.

Archer was annoyed about many, many things, and Harold had warned against him going out the previous day while he was in such a mood. It didn’t do much to improve the Servant’s attitude, but it was the best move on both their parts.

In truth, Harold was still spooked about their close shave with Rider; his Servant had given him the breakdown on the dracoknight afterwards, and it hadn’t helped him sleep that night.

Rider had red armour, could shrug off an arrow, had incredible speed, and earth-shattering strength.

What should have been an easy target for Archer was now a high threat, likely out for blood. And since Archer had been the first to strike, he had to deal with the consequences.

Him, and his Master.

Unlike Harold, Archer’s inaction was not remotely due to any fear he might have held; his pride was wounded, an injury worse than anything physical he could have sustained from Rider. His greatest asset, his legendary archery skills, had been reduced to nothing before what should have been an easy target.

Harold wanted to seek help in dealing with Rider, since his safety was in peril, and had enchanted a familiar to seek out other Masters and ask for assistance.

“What are you doing, Harold?” Archer asked, as the mage slowly opened a window. Harold had no words of response, simply holding the familiar out of the window. He gulped as his servant scrutinised him.

In a flash, an arrow pierced through the familiar, destroying it instantly.

“Ah-Archer?!”

“Hmph. You think I can’t handle Rider alone?”

Harold stammered and spluttered uselessly, unable to coherently form any sentence that might calm his Servant down.

“Fool. I still have the advantage over Rider, even if I can’t take her down with one arrow. I don’t need help from anyone,” Archer declared, irritation becoming more and more visible on his face.

“There’s no need to be so gung-ho about this…we’ll have an easier time if we form an alliance with others.”

Archer bristled, approaching his Master with slow, intimidating steps.

“Not only do you insult my ability, but you display naivety befitting of a child,” he spat, “I’m leaving. I’ll be defeating Rider myself- maybe then, you’ll have more confidence in my prowess. If you don’t want me to go, be prepared to waste another command seal.”

Harold, speechless, could only watch as his Servant vanished before his very eyes.

* * *

With Adelina safe in the new hideout, rested and fed, Assassin decided to focus on their- or, specifically, his- next move. Although they’d managed to escape from Caster without coming under any real harm, Adelina’s Servant was still concerned about what he’d gone up against.

“Master. As long as you feel safe here, I would like your permission to investigate Caster.”

His Master was having difficulty feeling comfortable in someone else’s home, especially without the owner’s knowledge. It had taken a lot of convincing from Assassin to get her to sleep on anything but the floor, let alone eat what was in the fridge.

“Investigate…why?” Adelina queried, sat uncomfortably on a kitchen stool.

“…I recognise her…and it’ll be best to assess if she’s a threat or not.”

“And if she’s a threat…you’re going to kill her, aren’t you?”

The question hung in the air, each passing minute becoming more and more uncomfortable for the girl. She couldn’t bear to look at Assassin, whose piercing red eyes never wavered once.

“…Yes.”

It took several moments for Adelina to muster up a response.

“Go.”

Although there was no sound of movement, she knew instinctively that Assassin had left; she let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding in.

It was all so surreal.

A Servant, who would protect her without question, fight for her, kill for her…

“It’s all too much…” Adelina mumbled to no one in particular.

She didn’t have a wish for the Fire Emblem; all she wanted was to keep her uncle away from it, and she’d managed to strip of him of his best chance at it. But now, she was just a little girl, on her own, no tomes or staves, just a burden to her Servant.

A deadweight to her only ally.

Laying her head against the countertop, she felt a soft tear trickle down her cheek.

“Why…am I even alive?”

Another tear.

“Naga…please guide me…” a desperate plea escaped her lips.

* * *

Stretching in her seat, Felicia let out a long yawn. She hadn’t woken up that long ago, and Lancer was still making her coffee, so shrugging her sleepiness off was a challenge; it made focusing on the numerous screens in front of her more difficult than it already was.

There was a lot to take in.

Images from all over the vast city were being displayed at once, directly from the little drones she and Lancer had spent the night leaving around the island.

It was going to take a lot of careful, attentive observation to find her enemies in this war.

Lancer entered, laying a mug on the table next to Felicia.

“Here, Master. I did as per instructed. I hope it suits your taste,” he said, respectfully taking a step back. Felicia grabbed the coffee, barely glancing at it as she drank a mouthful. Because of her magic, she was used to high temperatures, so scolding hot coffee didn’t bother her at all.

“This is awful,” the mage declared, downing the rest of it and tossing the mug back to her Servant.

“Three of these shitty drones broke in less than two fucking hours, and one of them is stuck in some kind of corner. Off to a good start…”

Lancer had no response, simply returning the cup he held back to the kitchen. When he returned, Felicia was frowning at one particular screen.

“Have you noticed something?” he inquired, peering over her shoulder. He got no response, however, as the woman chose to mutter and shift her focus to the monitor beside her.

“Er, I think it was…this button…” Felicia murmured, changing the monitor’s display from a map of the city to the particular feed she was curious about, “ugh, this resolution suuucks…”

The image displayed was the inside of a house, viewed from a window; although slightly on the fancy side, it looked relatively normal. Felicia’s scowl was directed on a girl sat inside.

“I know her…what’s her name again…? And why is she…”

With another button press, the monitor switched back to the city view, a beeping dot indicating where the scene had been taken from.

“That’s…in the Gate district? The hell is the priest’s niece doing in someone’s holiday home? Oh, don’t tell me she’s somehow in the war…”

Scratching her head in irritation, Felicia drummed her fingers on the side of her chair, considering what she’d learnt.

“Lancer. Remind me later that I need to visit the priest.”

“Very well. Would you like me to investigate this girl?”

“No need. We’re just gathering information for now, reacting to this immediately would be a hasty and poorly planned move. Besides, there’s nothing telling us she’s even related to the war. It’s weird, but we don’t need to worry about it at the moment,” the red haired mage explained, pausing for a moment, “But…”

“Yes?”

“Something you can do is…go out and buy me some coffee.”

The Servant refrained from chuckling, receiving the purse handed to him.

“That bad, hm?”

“Sorry, but you’re going to be my errand boy until we’ve gathered more information. Got a problem with that?”

A rueful smile crossed Lancer’s face as he made to leave the room.

“I live to serve, Master.”

* * *

Kerry, slouched on a park bench, grouchily chewed on an energy bar while his Servant stood in front of him. His eyes were shut, as if trying to forget about Caster and the Fire Emblem War in general.

Neither of them were aware of Assassin, hidden in a tree, watching their every move like a predator watching its prey.

“Master, please. There are other enemies out for your life. We were fortunate with Assassin, but I may not be able to protect you from everyone else targeting you. Allow me to find you somewhere to hide…”

Caster’s plea was ignored; Kerry was more interested in his breakfast than any potential danger he’d be facing.

“Master…”

The Servant’s mouth twitched momentarily, curving into a pout for mere seconds before her face returned to her typical blank expression. But Kerry didn’t pick up on it, as his attention was fixed on his food.

“Look,” he finally said, after a few minutes had passed, “I’m gonna level with you here. I’m half tempted to dump the last remaining cash in my shrivelling wallet on some hard alcohol and get myself drunk right now. But that wouldn’t even last me a full day, and I get the feeling it’s going to be a long fucking time before you and everything going on gets out of my godforsaken life. My life, which, by the way, took a nosedive from shit to magical horseshit! But y’know what? That’s fine! I’m cool with that! I’m losing my fucking mind here, and I still have no understanding of _anything_ after a fucking week, but who cares! I’m as irrelevant and useless a dead rat! Who cares if I die?! I sure don’t!”

With his tirade over, Kerry fiercely chomped down on the last of his energy bar, pointedly looking away from Caster. This led to a long, pregnant pause, filled with only aggressive chewing sounds.

Caster looked down, her lips tightening.

“…I care.”

 Kerry’s chewing slowed in pace. After he swallowed, he looked back at his Servant apprehensively.

“S…sorry. I just…”

A small shake of the head.

“If you desire to know more about this war, then…perhaps asking the overseer might be advisable,” Caster said.

“Who’s that?”

“A member of the church.”

The bewilderment that crossed Kerry’s face slowly turned into weary acceptance when he realised his handy guide in the world of magic and mystery had nothing more to add.

“I guess I’ll go to church…later. I need more food now. Where even is the church, anyway?”

“I am not completely sure…”

Kerry rose to his feet, and the two left, deciding on their immediate next course of action.

Assassin, still hidden from view, had kept watch of Caster for the entire exchange. He had to keep his distance; even if he wanted to attack the enemy Servant, doing so in the open in broad daylight was a major disadvantage to him.

That wasn’t his priority, though. He was more concerned about Caster’s gold eyes and black hair.

He definitely recognised those features…

There was something else bothering him.

By principle, Heroic Spirits could sense each other when in close proximity. The exception to this was the Assassin class- himself- due to the Presence Concealment skill.

So…why couldn’t he sense Caster?

The Caster class was normally the one holding the most magical energy; sensing them should take no effort at all.

Could this Caster have control over who can sense her? Did she have a special skill? Or…

Was she not a Heroic Spirit?

When Assassin spotted a small robot on the ground, heading in the same direction Kerry and his Servant went, he decided to make his leave; not to follow Caster, but to hunt through the city, and confirm his growing suspicions.

* * *

Other than strangely large groups of people walking through the streets, Saber hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary- aside from a wyvern soaring overhead, from one side of the city to another, well out of his reach.

This was troubling.

As expected, finding Caster would be a chore in a vast city like this, but perhaps he needed a new approach to finding her.

Higher ground seemed like the best option; blue cape billowing in the wind, the Servant gracefully sprang onto a high-rise building nearby, using the vantage point to gaze down on the people. Convinced the Servant he was looking for was not in the area, he leapt to another rooftop, and repeated the process.

Saber did not get frustrated with his lack of results; rather, he was at peace, content with the knowledge that there were so many people able to live their lives without war and strife. He wore a soft, gentle smile.

As the swordsman continued his search, he felt an overbearing presence.

Another Servant?

His eyes darted around his surroundings, trying to pick up on anyone out of place-

A hooded figure.

Standing on the next building over.

Although the hood obscured their expression, they appeared shocked at the sight of Saber, who froze in place, in awe of this Heroic Spirit’s raw power. After a few moments, the figure smiled, an expression not unlike the one Saber had earlier.

Saber didn’t know how to react, and could only watch as the hooded figure scurried off, and leap from building to building until they were out of sight.

His mind, still numb, echoed one question repeatedly.

Was that really a Servant?

* * *

The sky was mostly clear, and the air was fresh, with the occasional biting breeze passing through. Archer, positioned on one of the tallest towers in the city, had an open, wide view of the sky above.

His bad mood was getting worse; he hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Rider since storming out of Harold’s room.

Of course, it’d be silly to expect her to always be in the sky, but his patience was running dry, and, for the sake of maybe his pride alone, he really wanted to best her in combat as soon as he could.

Archer’s eyes flickered downwards momentarily, catching a large creature on the roof of one of the buildings below. It looked like…

“A wyvern?” he muttered, “or…”

If it was a wyvern, then Rider was right under his nose, mocking him. But this creature had pure white scales, glistening with a prismatic glow under the sunlight. It was also fairly large; too much so to be a wyvern.

Which could only mean one thing.

The creature raised its long neck, making eye contact with Archer despite the sizeable distance between them. The Servant flinched, but steeled himself and leapt towards it.

“A dragon…? But how…”

As he stood near the legendary beast, he felt its overwhelming power swamp over his senses, threatening to destroy his rationale. It didn’t move, simply regarding him warily as he took a tentative step forward.

Was this dragon a Heroic Spirit? Or was it the work of an enemy Servant?

Either way, he couldn’t just turn tail and flee. Bow in hand, he bowed out of respect to the dragon, and took several steps back.

“Now then, noble dragon,” Archer said, readying his weapon, “how will you fair against my arrows?”

The dragon made a challenging growl, and the bowman fired an arrow at incredible speed, directly at the creature’s long neck-

_Snap_.

Not only did the arrow fail to even scratch the dragon, it snapped and harmlessly fell to the ground. The dragon snorted in contempt, and raised one of its mighty claws. Archer, gaping in shock, clenched his teeth and readied his bow for another shot.

“If your scales are that tough…then I’ll go for your eyes!”

He was too late; despite his agility, he’d spent too much time in stupor to have an arrow ready before the dragon’s claw hit him. With a single blow, Archer was sent crashing through a building behind him.

“Ggh…dammit…”

Picking himself up, head ringing, the bowman leant against a wall for support while peering out of the opening he’d made.

Such brute force…

This was definitely a dragon, no doubt about it; perhaps even a divine dragon, judging for the sheer power.

Though his arms were shaking- not from pain, but from strain- he raised his bow, aiming for the monstrous creature’s eye. But his vision was failing him; it was hard to stay on his feet in the condition he was in.

From just one strike.

What was he trying to prove here?

Fortunately, he was at a range now. He just needed to focus…

“I’ll use it…my Noble Phantasm…!”

The dragon opened its mouth, flame gathering at its gaping maw, as Archer struggled to line up his shot. Knowing he was about to collapse at any time- and that taking a dragon’s fire head on would potentially kill him- he used the last of his energy to spring into the air, feeling the adrenaline course through his body.

It was enough.

His aim was true for just one moment, and he fired an arrow, coated in a shadowy aura, directly into the dragon’s eye-

But the Servant had no time to celebrate. A huge fireball was launched towards him at the same moment, exploding the moment it smashed into him. He rocketed to the ground, slamming into a car below, pulverising it and rebounding onto the road.

The dragon roared in pain, but Archer could barely hear it; he felt faint, unable to stand up.

But…

He wasn’t dead.

Losing his corporeal form for some time would be the best way to heal and escape from this situation. The bowman had wounded, and possibly cursed, a mighty, legendary creature- he was satisfied with that, at the very least.

Any thought of Rider had long left his mind as he drifted back to his Master.

* * *

Adelina had spent the day exploring her temporary home, reluctantly nibbling on snacks when the hunger got her. The house had two floors and a basement with the secret tunnel out. In order to be able to flee at any given moment, she had to remain on the ground floor.

The girl understood this.

The layout of the ground floor was simple enough; the front door opened into a wide sitting room, with doors to a corridor and a study. The corridor had an entrance to a dining room at the back, which led into the kitchen, and stairs going up and down.

With all the doors left open for ease of movement, Adelina sat herself in the kitchen, keeping her boredom and anxiety in check with a book she’d plucked from the study. It was a history book, detailing the major conflicts in ancient Elibe.

Although she didn’t know any Servants’ identity in this war, including her own, and had no intent to fight, she figured there was at least some benefit from studying potential Heroic Spirits.

The girl had noticed a slight issue with this, however. The world had a long, wide history of warring nations and every land had a vast selection of heroes from the past.

In short, she’d have to study a lot to be useful in this respect.

Another sigh escaped her lips; she briefly debated going to the front room to watch TV, or find somewhere more comfortable to sit.

A faint rattling reached Adelina’s ears, causing her to jolt out of her seat.

A door handle?

“Oh no…” she whispered, gulping, and stealing a glance through the corridor.

As soon as the front door opened, Adelina jumped behind a chair in alarm- if she tried going to the basement now, she’d be seen. She had to wait and see what this intruder would do…

Stepping through the entrance, her footsteps light, Gracia remained on guard as her eyes scanned the room for any signs of life. In a worst case scenario, she was prepared to use a command seal to have Saber protect her from Assassin, but all she needed to do was kill or disable the Servant’s Master.

She was only half convinced this was Adelina’s hideout. Using the street she’d watched last night’s fight in as the starting point, she’d manage to trace the girl to the Gate district, and this house was supposedly unoccupied.

The sun was starting to set; as the visibility in this room got poorer, Assassin’s potential advantage grew…if he was here. Rather than find a light switch, the mage pointed her finger at the ceiling light above, shooting a trail of electricity at it, activating it.

Since nobody seemed to be in this front room, her attention shifted to the two doors leading further into the house. One seemed to hold a study, with no windows or other exits.

She shut that door. If the girl was hiding in there, she’d have to open the door to escape- which Gracia would definitely notice.

Entering the corridor next, she ignored the stairs for the time being, choosing to make sure this floor was empty first. A dining room and kitchen came into view, also seemingly empty, no sign of anything being touched…

No, there was something out of place.

A book, lying open on the kitchen counter.

Gracia approached it cautiously. It didn’t appear to be anything important, but it did imply that someone was here…

With the intruder’s focus directed away from her, Adelina saw her only chance to escape. Her breath felt heavy as she mustered the resolve to just _go for it_ and run. Although she could use her Command Seals to bring Assassin here, she didn’t want to interrupt her Servant while he was looking for Caster- she felt useless enough as it was already.

The girl threw herself at full speed through the door. She darted down the stairs, and into the dim basement, frantically barrelling towards the secret tunnel. She’d left it open just in case, so it was just a matter of closing it before the woman entered the basement.

All she had to do was slide the tile above her…

It was heavy, and she was just a teenaged girl.

Adelina found herself cursing with language she’d heard only adults use, her heart pounding as she finally managed to close the tunnel’s entrance.

Suddenly, she was trapped in total darkness.

The young Master was frozen in place as adrenaline in her system slowly quieted down.

She focused her breathing, slowing it down, calming herself before heading through the tunnel, not daring to look back once.

And not daring to think about how much danger she’d been in.


	5. Night Three

- _Night Three_ -

“This is…it?”

“Yes. This is it, Master.”

“Looks kinda…shabby,” Kerry commented, “why the hell did they build a church on the outskirts of town? It looks so creepy with the forest behind it…”

Reluctantly leading his Servant towards the large entrance, the young man laid his hand on the door, steeling himself for whatever he would be confronted with inside.

“Master. I will stand guard here. You won’t be in any danger in there,” Caster assured him, “however, I may not be as welcome to enter as you are.”

Groaning at his Servant’s cryptic statement, Kerry hesitantly opened the door with a loud _creak_ , shifting himself inside.

“Uh…hello…?” he called out, stepping forwards slowly. The church was cold, spacious, and barren- he expected it to be lavished in decorations and expensive objects.

“Hm? What’s this? A lost soul? At this hour?” a voice echoed through the building as a priest stepped forward, “welcome, traveller. For what reason do you seek Naga’s guiding light?”

Kerry’s expression turned sour on reflex as he recalled his unfavourable experience with a priest the previous day.

“I…uh…” he stammered, trying to decide how to begin, before settling on holding out his hand emblazoned with Command Seals. The priest grinned.

“Hoho…one chosen by the Emblem, hm? You seek asylum? Or perhaps…?”

“Answers. Explanations. I want to know what’s going on.”

“I’m sure. In this war, information and knowledge is your greatest asset.”

“…Please tell me everything. I just- suddenly got involved in this mess, and I don’t understand anything, and I still kinda can’t believe magic is real-”

The priest nodded solemnly, and a ball of light left his hand, floating into the air and illuminating the church.

“Very well. Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, “I am Father Friedemann Scheuer, overseer of this Fire Emblem War. And you are?”

“Er…Kerry. Kerry Denton. I…guess I’m a Master, or whatever…”

An approving smirk crossed Friedemann’s face.

“Indeed. You have been chosen by the Fire Emblem to fight in this war. This means you have the blood of mages running through you- whether or not you are an actual mage yourself.”

“Huh. News to me…but why was I chosen?”

“The Fire Emblem is a wish granting magical object. Those it selects have a strong desire…or _will_ have a strong desire…that can be fulfilled only by the Emblem’s limitless power.”

Kerry nodded slowly. He was sort of following.

“However, only one Master can have their wish granted. This is where the conflict arises.”

“Uh-huh…so that’s where the Servants come in?”

“Servants are Heroic Spirits of legend, taken from tales from the extensive history of our world, who respond to the summoning of a Master and are given corporeal form with the miracle of the Emblem’s power. They are used to fight on a Master’s behalf- when a Servant is defeated, the Master loses their Command Seals, and their right to fight in the war. And when only one remains, the Fire Emblem will be revealed to the victor.”

Kerry scratched his head as he processed this large chunk of information.

“So, uh…my Servant wants me to call them Caster…and I met another one called Assassin. Hm,” he said, “how many others are there?”

“There are…six Servants. Those names are their class names- they hide their true names in order to prevent opponents from learning their identities, in case any of their weak points become apparent,” Friedemann explained. Kerry was beginning to sense some enthusiasm in his voice, as if the priest had been waiting for an excuse to give a breakdown on the war.

“Typically, the six classes are broken up into the three knight classes- Saber, Lancer, Archer- and the three cavalry classes- Rider, Caster, Assassin. Although there have been deviations from this in previous wars.”

“Eh…so, that means…”

“You have five enemies, yes.”

Kerry was starting to feel understandably overwhelmed, but he at least had some idea of what he was a part of.

“So what happens if I lose my Servant?”

The priest chuckled, and spread his arms wide.

“The safest bet would be to come here, where you will be protected until the war’s end. However, what you choose to do with your life on the line…is down to you.”

It was an ominous warning; Kerry wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He had more questions, but they all died in his throat.

“Don’t forget, Kerry Denton. Masters depend on their Servants…and Servants depend on their Masters. Even if you have no desires, no wishes…you will be doing your part by simply living while your Servant obtains the Emblem for themselves. This, in turn, makes you a target for other Masters and their Servants.”

As Caster’s Master nodded, realising he couldn’t just back out of the war anymore, the priest’s eyes gleamed in perverse pleasure.

“One more thing,” he said, with a crooked smile. Kerry felt an instinctual fear grab him by the spine, holding him in place as Friedemann spoke.

“You say you met Assassin, correct?”

“Y-yeah…”

Kerry let out an awkward, nervous laugh.

“And his Master?”

“…Uh-huh…”

Where was he going with this?

“Excellent. Then, I have a request for you. A little errand that even you, a novice Master, can do.”

“…What is it…?”

Most likely nothing good, that much was certain.

“Assassin’s Master is my niece, you see. The poor troublemaker needs to come back home before she gets hurt…if you ever get the chance to bring her here, I’ll give you a reward…yes. Perhaps an extra Command Seal? I trust you are aware of their value- with one, you can give your Servant an order they cannot refuse, or help them realise a miracle they wouldn’t normally be capable of.”

It may have been because the priest’s face was twisted into the most malignant grin he’d ever seen in his life, but something told Kerry that Assassin’s master would be in more danger inside this church than outside it.

“I’ll, er…think about it.”

* * *

Adelina still couldn’t see anything, even after walking through this tunnel for what felt like an eternity. She desperately wished she had and knew how to properly use a light tome.

However, the grim darkness, she could sure smell…and it was nasty. The girl felt like throwing up more and more as she approached the source of the odour.

Awful stench aside, she seemed to be in the clear; there were no signs of pursuit, so the woman had likely been unable to find the secret passage, or wasn’t interested enough to follow. That woman…was another Master, no doubt about it. It terrified her to think that she’d been found by this stranger…who was probably out to kill her.

Was anywhere safe?

The sound of water pulled her out of her thoughts.

Drip, drip.

Adelina allowed the rhythmical sound to guide her until she reached a small opening by her feet, with a faint light trickling through. She could just about crawl inside, but the smell and grimy walls put her off…

Who did she think she was kidding? She was filthy already, and she couldn’t just stand around here forever.

Making a revolted face, the girl got onto her hands and knees, grumbling and whining as she crawled through. The sound of running water replaced the dripping noise, and soon after, Adelina emerged from the crawlspace, covered in filth and dirt.

“Oh…sewers,” she said blankly.

It was still dark, but gratings on the street shed some minimal night time light, allowing her to see the dirty grey walls, the horribly coloured water- the source of the disgusting smell- and a ladder, leading to the streets above.

Adelina allowed herself a sigh of relief before hastily climbing it, desperate to get out of unhygienic conditions and grim darkness that had been her life for at least a few hours. As she made it to the top, she realised she’d have to move a manhole cover- her arms were already screaming in protest, but the appeal of fresh air and natural light was too much to give up on.

Finally on the surface, aching all over, sat in the middle of an empty street, Adelina Scheuer allowed herself a small, fleeting sense of pride for escaping pursuit, before realising that she was now lost, alone, and very tired.

Giving herself some time to rest, the girl climbed to her feet, and began absentmindedly wandering around the neighbourhood. She frowned as she turned a corner, finding another empty street.

How strange.

It looked like she was in the Central district now…

Wasn’t this the busy side of the city?

It was a residential area, and the night was young; there had to be at least some people around. Although, in a way, she preferred it like this, as it meant that there were no potential enemies nearby.

But at the same time, she was filthy, drained, and slightly shaken by her close shave. The smell alone- which had now attached itself to her, like a particularly obnoxious leech- was driving her crazy.

She really could use some help from a kind, random stranger.

“Naga, guide me…” Adelina prayed, turning another corner.

She paused at the scene before her.

A large group of people- at least fifty- were blankly looking in her direction, as if bewitched. In front of them, with her back to Adelina, was a black haired figure, who turned to face the girl after a few seconds.

“My, my. What have we here?” the gold eyed woman said, “a child like you shouldn’t be out at this time of night…”

She resembled Caster, but there was something different about her…

“Oh! You look familiar. Are you perhaps…the Master of Assassin?”

Adelina’s heart leapt to her throat as she gasped in shock; she was in danger, _again_. A strong gust of wind blew her over, scraping her leg and arm on the hard surface of the pavement.

The woman- was she really Caster?- let out a sultry chuckle, stepping towards the fallen girl.

“What a find…ahahaha! Dear, you look terrible. Why don’t you come with me?”

The woman sneered, and Adelina clambered to her feet, desperately sprinting away from the new danger.

“A spirited one, hm?” Caster said, extending her hand; another strong gust followed, sending Adelina flying. She cried out in pain, wincing and holding back tears.

There was an easy way out for Adelina; she just had to bring Assassin here-

Where was he, anyway? Wasn’t he investigating Caster?

Or…maybe he’d found something more important. And if she interrupted him now…

The girl would only prove how much of a useless waste of space she was. No, if Adelina immediately turned to Assassin for help every time, used a Command Seal at the slightest threat, she’d never make it through this war.

She had to escape.

She had to prove herself.

Adelina could feel it…

Despite everything, she wanted to live.

“Silly child. Run like that, and you’ll just get yourself hurt even more…”

Adelina, still on the ground, glared defiantly at her assailant.

“Eat shit.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Roll over and die, you hag!” the cleric spat, her polite mannerisms thrown to the side in her last effort of resistance. She didn’t care about how she might sound, or who she might offend; right now, only Naga could give her the strength to face this danger.

“You little rat…”

The air surrounding them became turbulent, threatening to lift the girl into the air, and it was all she could do to stop herself from colliding with a nearby wall.

But then, abruptly, the wind died down, replaced with a _thump_ and successive heavy footsteps. Slowly, Adelina craned her neck to see a woman adorned in beautiful crimson armour approaching the scene.

“Oh? A friend? What Servant are you?” Caster scoffed.

“…Rider. I see your kind aren’t above bullying children,” the woman in red commented in disgust, her gaze shifting to the idle group of people down the road, “there’s only so much civilian involvement I can stomach before I have to cut down who’s responsible.”

“My kind…?”

Rider wasn’t holding her weapon, striding forward with a stern expression, her eyes narrowing at the black haired woman. When the Servant halted her advance, she raised her hand, and snapped her fingers.

“I am courteous enough to give you a warning before I strike. Release these people, and leave at once!” as Rider declared this, her voice powerful and authoritative, her wyvern landed beside her with large impact.

“Fool. Your wyvern will be destroyed under the might of Fimbulvetr…”

“…So be it.”

Rider leapt onto her mount, and Caster threw her arms forward, creating a swarm of wind blades that circled the servant and the wyvern. But Rider did not seem too concerned about this, despite the potency of wind magic against flying mounts.

Adelina, gazing at the scene in awe, began to crawl away; this was her chance to escape, and there was no way she wouldn’t take it.

The powerful winds began howling, but the wyvern hardly looked phased as it dived at the enemy- even as the bladed wind struck, it and Rider barely flinched, with minimal blood drawn. The dragonknight hoisted out a mighty axe, bellowing a fierce war cry.

“H-how are you still ali- oh no-”

Caster’s startled cry was cut off when the wyvern hurtled forward at full speed; she dashed to the side, but Rider sprang off her mount, her red eyes blazing with fury as she brought her axe down on the magic user, annihilating her and destroying the ground underneath.

There was a pause.

The air became still once again.

The crowd of people dropped to the ground, the spell on them lifted.

Rider stood, letting out a small sigh as she surveyed the street around her, her axe dissipating from her hand.

“There’s one down, at least. What a mess…” the dragoon muttered, her stern expression back on her face.

Adelina had already left; there was a chance Rider had plans for her, and she wanted nothing to do with them if that was the case.

That woman…was that really Caster?

Had Rider really just beaten Caster in a single blow?

* * *

Felicia’s eyes were beginning to hurt.

She wasn’t even close to being tired. She was just feeling the effects of straining her eyes trying to catch the goings on in the town for almost a whole day with little time for breaks.

But while it was painful, it was also paying off.

So far, she had caught a glimpse of Archer, his Master, Saber, Rider, Adelina- although, annoyingly, the camera watching her had broken during the evening- and…

“Lancer. You’ve noticed them too, right?” the mage asked her Servant, who had faithfully stood at her shoulder for the whole time, albeit incorporeal. He brought himself into view as he answered.

“You mean the multiple Casters? Indeed. I’m afraid I’m unaware of any possible Caster class Heroic Spirit that could be many but one…”

Felicia frowned, tapping one of the screens a ‘Caster’ was visible on.

“I wonder if there’s a real one…I guess that one would be the one hanging out with their Master.”

“Perhaps. Ideally, they’d want to keep their Master safe…but considering how he seems to be a non-mage, it’s impressive that he’s keeping these Casters’ forms visible for so long,” the Servant mused. Felicia did not directly respond to this, her eyes intently following each instance of ‘Caster’ that her surveillance bugs currently showed her.

“A lot of them are gathering people up, no doubt they’re bad news.”

“Perhaps you could inquire the overseer if that’s fair play in this war?”

After Lancer spoke, the mage paused, then leaned back in her seat.

“…Ah. Yeah. I was gonna do that, wasn’t I?” she said, sounding almost reluctant. After a pained sigh, she stood up, and stretched her limbs.

“I’m using the bike, Lancer. Stay here and watch for any new developments,” Felicia barely even glancing at her servant as she left the room, “let me know if anything major happens.”

“…Godspeed, Master…” Lancer said, watching the woman leave.

Something told him she just wanted an excuse to have some fresh air.

* * *

The outside of the church was quiet, still, and dark, save for a select few lamps near the gates of the property. Caster- or, the one Kerry referred to as such- stood under the weak lights, absolutely motionless as she patiently awaited her Master.

Few thoughts crossed her mind; she felt calm…at peace.

But were they true feelings? She was not human, nor was she a Heroic Spirit.

Perhaps, since her directive was to protect her Master, she felt content only when doing so.

An enigma. One she could not solve on her own, she decided.

As Caster thought this, she spotted a hooded figure slowly approach the church’s gate. As it drew closer, she felt an enormous wave of mana radiating from the figure.

Her eyes widened as she prepared herself to fight; a potential enemy was here.

“Ah…a visitor? How rare…Friedemann must be delighted,” the hooded figure- a woman- remarked dryly. Caster readied herself to use her magic, starting to feel pressured from the overwhelming magical energy.

“Please, relax,” the woman said- only one of her eyes were visible from under the hood, Caster noticed, “I am tired. I do not wish to fight…”

Caster took a step back as the figure passed her, giving the gold eyed girl a light smile.

“I best not intrude on Friedemann’s visitor…I suppose I should enter through the side,” the woman mused, “see you around…”

Even after the mysterious woman left, Caster had not quite overcome her shock, so when Kerry eventually emerged from the building, he regarded her with confusion.

“You okay, Caster?”

“Oh-! Master. Please forgive me,” Caster said, attempting to downplay her flustered reaction, “did you learn what you needed to?”

“Sorta,” Kerry responded, scratching his head, “but, uh, let’s not fight Assassin’s Master anymore, okay?”

Despite Caster’s puzzled look, Kerry did not elaborate, simply walking towards the church gates. His Servant made to follow, but both paused when a motorbike shrieked to a halt in front of the iron gateway.

A red haired woman climbed off the bike, gazing directly at the church warily. She briskly strode through the open gate, stopping suddenly when she noticed Kerry and Caster.

“Are you f- ugh,” Felicia groaned, “the hell are you doing here?”

“I was just…wait, why do you care?”

“Because, if you’re up to no good on holy ground, I can bring my Servant here- and I guarantee he’d turn you both into pincushions.”

Kerry flinched; another Master had turned up, at least ten years older than him, sporting a short temper and probably a strong Servant. This was, almost definitely, an actual mage.

“Y’know…learning about this war…” he said, supressing his nervous chuckle. The woman glowered at him for a moment, then rolled her eyes.

“Sheesh. So you really are a novice…and? Did Friedemann remember to tell you the rules you must abide by, now that you’re involved in a mages’ conflict?”

“Aha…nah…”

Felicia bristled, but Caster stepped in between the two, her arm extended.

“I’m afraid I cannot allow you to step any closer,” she warned.

“Hoho…hey, kid,” Felicia said, a flame igniting from her hand, “you want another free lesson?”

Kerry frowned, but did not interrupt.

“See, when a _real_ mage becomes a Master, they can look at a Servant, and see their parameters. But this…‘Caster’…doesn’t have any. How interesting.”

“Wuh-oh…” Kerry muttered.

“So…you think this fake Caster can stand up to me- the strongest mage on this island? I’m down for blowing off some steam before I give the shoddy priest a piece of my mind…”

Caster seemed ready to fight, but Kerry pulled her back in an effort to defuse the situation.

“Let’s not fight. Please?”

Felicia sighed, snuffing the flame out of her hand, with Caster following suite.

“Fine, fine. Get outta here before I change my mind. I’m being lenient here…you’re still discovering a new side to this world, and my family has a responsibility over the mages in this city. Call it…uh…noblesse oblige.”

“Nobl- wha?”

Another eye roll.

“Just- fuck off before I roast you and your knock-off servant,” Felicia growled, turning away from them and bee-lining towards the church, “oh, yeah…touch my bike and you die.”

She didn’t bother checking their reactions, choosing to swing open the entrance to the church with a scowl.

“Another visitor? And so la- geh…”

Friedemann couldn’t hide the displeasure on his face upon laying eyes on Felicia Clementine in a bad mood.

“Yeah, yeah, I hate being here too, Father fuckhead. Hope you didn’t poison the mind of that kid too bad.”

Friedemann forced a smile.

“To what do I owe the pleasure…heir of the Clementine name?”

“You _know_ why. Gimme answers. Why are you turning a blind eye to the civilians being involved in this war? Isn’t it your job to prevent that?”

Felicia jabbed her finger at the priest’s chest, who took an instinctive step back.

“…News to me. As long as it does not reach the ears and eyes of the ordinary public, it’s not my place to interfere.”

This response earnt him an icy glare, but his fake smile only grew.

“Haha…I hope you remembered your holy water today, you smarmy pisswagon.”

Both of Felicia’s hands ignited, causing Freidemann’s eye to twitch in an effort to keep his pleasant expression.

“Is that all? You’re outstaying your welcome…”

“Oh, I bet you’d love to get rid of me…but no. Why is your niece out in the city?”

“Can’t say.”

“Is she a part of this war?”

“…Won’t say.”

After a strained silence, filled with the two trying to stare the other down, Felicia wheeled around, kicking the door open in a huff.

“You’re on thin ice, buddy…do your job. Or stockpile on holy water- you’ll need it if I have to return.”

With that, she stormed out, leaving Friedemann alone to regain his composure.

* * *

Saber entered that night’s designated meetup location- a small, dimly lit hut in the city’s shipyard- to find his Master fiddling with a strange device. Her feet were propped on a table as sat back, holding the device to the light.

“Ah, Saber, you’re here,” Gracia said absentmindedly. She didn’t spare her Servant a single glance, laying the device on the table and running her finger across it.

“Master. I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to find Cas-”

“Whatever. Come check this out,” the woman interrupted, sliding what she’d been examining across the table. Saber stared at it cluelessly.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow,” he said.

“It’s a bug. A roaming surveillance camera. I found it when I was looking for Assassin’s Master. And I gotta say, this thing is way more exciting than chasing a little girl.”

“Is it enchanted? Another Master’s familiar?”

“Not quite,” Gracia opened the bug as she explained, “it’s completely devoid of any magic…but it is definitely the work of one of our enemies.”

“But…”

“Right? To use technology in a mage’s war? Nobody would expect it. These are probably being overlooked by most other Masters and Servants.”

“But wouldn’t that mean…the owner of this device knows that you’ve figured it out?”

Gracia wagged her finger.

“Of course not. I have my magecraft configured specifically to interrupt and disable devices like this. An advantage of my lightning-focused proficiency.”

Saber blinked.

“You have your magic like that…all day?”

“Yes. It’s very faint, but I keep it up during my waking hours.”

“Even if it is very faint, to do that while supplying me with mana…”

The blonde woman shook her head.

“Oh, that? Maybe if you were fighting every day, I’d get mildly strained. But you staying material is fine. I have the energy for it.”

“I see…but wouldn’t that increase the chance of me being spotted by one of those devices?” Saber asked; he was still reeling in awe of his Master’s supply of magical energy. Just how powerful was she?

“It’s fine. I’d prefer it if you acted as though you didn’t notice them, actually. The owner of them might grow suspect.”

“Do you know who it is?”

Gracia paused for a moment before answering.

“…Clementine. The current head of the family uses a lot of technology. Plus, there’s no way she wouldn’t be involved in this war.”

“Do you know her?” Saber asked, tilting his head to look at the device.

“…I know of her. She’s infamous in the Association for her weird hobby.”

Saber had no response to this, so Gracia changed the topic.

“Continue looking for Caster. I’ll see if I can pick up Assassin’s trail again. Got it?”

“…Yes, Master.”

* * *

An underground parking lot.

This was where the trail ended; Assassin was now certain of who- and what- to expect.

People from all over the city were flocking in droves, led by the bewitching copies of ‘Caster’, to this dark, enclosed space; without a doubt, it was Caster’s territory. Assassin, with more ease of movement in the darkness, was able to follow a ‘Caster’ without being spotted, until they reached the maw of the parking lot.

These groups of people…

What were they being gathered for?

There was only one thing Assassin could conclude, based on the circumstances.

Quintessence.

A lot of it, at that. Allowing these people to fall into the real Caster’s hands was dangerous. The more people he gathered, the greater his power grew. It explained how he was able to create all these copies, despite his weak master.

This couldn’t be allowed to continue.

Firstly, Assassin would have to free the group he’d followed here. Simple enough; they were enchanted by the fake Caster- a Morph. He’d dealt with plenty of their kind in the past, and he was in his element right now.

Making no sound, the Servant dropped behind his target, smoothly pulling out his daggers.

The Morph had no idea its life was about to end; Assassin’s C Rank Lethality skill ensured that any unsuspecting target would die in five strikes.

The first was across the neck.

The second was through the abdomen.

The third was across the back.

The fourth was through the chest.

And the last was a blow to the head.

In less than a minute, the Morph was dead, and the group of people it had led collapsed in a heap outside the parking lot. Assassin, now with a clear path into Caster’s lair, noiselessly entered, the underground darkness enveloping him.

He embraced it; it gave him the edge in the inevitable confrontation to follow.

As the Servant drew deeper in, he noticed several small candles in a circle on the floor, surrounding and illuminating a cloaked figure.

Caster.

This was, without a doubt, the real deal.

“Heh. Welcome to my workshop, Assassin.”

Assassin ceased his movement, staring unflinchingly at his enemy.

“I knew you’d come here. I see all that my creations see…since your confrontation last night, it was easy to predict you’d work out my identity, and find me here.”

The sorcerer let out a low chuckle, and turned to face Assassin.

“So…did you come here to fight? Or perhaps you’d be willing to join me? I seek only the Emblem’s unending power; I have no qualms with giving the wish to you if you are willing to cooperate,” Caster offered, extending his hand with a snide grin.

Assassin did not react.

“Hmph. Maybe if your Master’s life was on the line?”

No response.

“I created the man that you are now, Jaffar. You are just like my Morphs; I shaped you into a loyal, powerful form of life, beyond the comprehension of humans.”

“…Nergal. I can promise only one thing.”

“Speak,” Caster said, the candles around him snuffing out, one by one, until the underground parking lot was submerged in total darkness.

“Your death will be swift.”

With blinding speed, Jaffar launched himself forward, slicing at Nergal’s arm; Caster stepped back in time for it to only leave a gash, but Assassin followed up with a cut to the shoulder.

This was where Caster’s counterattack began. With a sweep of his unharmed arm, the air around Jaffar exploded, sending him flying through the air. He stopped his momentum with a supporting pillar, but the air above him burst, sending him crashing to the ground.

No…not the air.

It was dark magic, that couldn’t be seen…because of the darkness.

Assassin’s advantage was also a drawback in this fight; he couldn’t see his enemy’s attacks.

Dashing forward once again, he brought his dagger up, slashing at Nergal’s chest, who barely managed to block the strike with his magic. Swinging his other arm around, Assassin lightly cut Caster’s head, tearing his hood off and exposing his face.

Jaffar’s next move was to dive to the right, and come in from below again; but a blast of dark magic blew him off his feet, and another smashed into his side, twisting him in the air.

“Why do you seek the Emblem, Jaffar? Something like you is incapable of possessing their own desires,” Nergal taunted, “foolish boy. Your Noble Phantasm is at the whim of my magic. This is a waste of time.”

Assassin did not rise to the provocation, instead choosing to create some distance before drawing close for another assault-

“Imbecile. Your movements are easy to track.”

When Nergal uttered this, Jaffar was bombarded with magic from all sides, with no chance of evasion or defence, launching him into the ground with an almighty _smash_. Blood trickling down his face and body, he picked himself up, grunting in pain.

Assassin knew he couldn’t match the man who raised him.

The fallen sorcerer who plunged Elibe into chaos in his hunger for power- one who lived for over a millennium.

His dark magic- Ereshkigal- was absurdly powerful, and rendered Jaffar’s own Noble Phantasm completely useless. While he could attempt to draw him outside, any light source would be of more detriment to him than Caster.

He had to escape.

With no words of parting, Assassin sprinted to the exit; Nergal seemed content to let him go.

Jaffar couldn’t fight him alone.

He needed to rest.

He needed a new plan.

He needed…allies.


	6. Day Four/Night Four

- _Sometime, Somewhere_ -

_The girl finds plains. She finds mountains. She finds rivers._

_She is enraptured by them._

_As one who grew up knowing only one landscape, the world opens up to her, full of endless wonders. She spends years traveling from land to land, enjoying all they have to offer._

_Though she finds happiness, she does not find content._

_The girl finds cities. She finds people. She finds society._

_She feels nothing for them._

_Her skills gain attention for their potency. Many from all over revere her, or fear her._

_But she does not return these feelings._

_She simply cannot._

_No matter who she meets, no matter how she meets them, no matter what their fate is, the result remains the same._

_Countless people come and go in her life, and she feels nothing for any of them._

_Someone to love…_

_Someone to hate…_

_She longs to meet someone who can inspire feeling inside her heart._

* * *

- _Day Four_ -

Morning struck Adelina, as unwelcome as ever, shining light on how terrible she looked after the previous day. She hadn’t slept- she was too scared to, and the outside was too cold for her to get any rest- she was covered in sewer dirt, her clothes were ripped, her knees and arms were scraped and bloody, and her eyes were red from crying.

The girl had stopped noticing her own awful smell, and was almost numb to her own pain, but that did not stop her from feeling as horrible as she looked.

She’d stopped her prayers to Naga; at this point, she felt beyond saving.

Leaning against a hard, brick wall in a grim alleyway, Adelina slumped to the ground in defeat.

“Why did any of this happen…?”

Hunger, thirst and sleep deprivation were settling in; maybe, if she sat here long enough, she’d wither away and die…

As Adelina despaired, she failed to notice her Servant quietly appearing next to her, looking in just as poor shape as her.

“Master.”

The girl did not react immediately. After a few moments passed, she slowly looked up at her servant.

“Assassin…you…came back,” she found herself saying, “I-I…I’m so sorry…”

Tears began welling up as Assassin’s hard stare bore into her; apologies continued pouring out of her mouth- she knew he’d be disappointed, and probably angry, too-

Jaffar knelt on one knee, gently laying his hand on Adelina’s head.

“Relax…” he said, in his usual, quiet, rough voice. The girl went wide-eyed, but her tears didn’t stop, as she buried her face in her Servant’s chest.

“I almost g-got found, so I ran, and- and there was someone who looked like Caster, a-and…” she paused, wincing at the memory and sniffling, “she w-was killed by Rider, and then-“

“Why didn’t you use a Command Seal…?”

Adelina couldn’t bring herself to look up at Assassin.

“I- I don’t know, I th-thought if I kept relying on you, I’d never make it through this war…but all I ever do is run anyway…”

Jaffar said nothing as his Master emptied her heart out.

“I-I’m so powerless…I’m just a burden to you. I can’t do anything- I don’t even have a wish, or a reason to be in this war, or a reason to be alive!”

Adelina grit her teeth.

“I…I may as well be dead!”

There was a cold pause. Assassin grimaced as he held Adelina by her shoulders, pulling her away from him, and looking into her eyes, lined with red and purple. She hadn’t slept a wink…

“Master.”

The girl hung her head.

“…I answered your summoning. I am here…to serve you. That is all…”

When she didn’t react, Jaffar continued, “I have no wish of my own. I only want…to protect you.”

“Why…why did you answer my call?”

“Your life was in danger- you let out a desperate cry for help. It reminded me of someone…so I wanted to save you.”

Once again, there was no reaction.

“You’re more than worthy enough to be a Master. I am at my full potential…because of you,” Jaffar stated.

Adelina looked up once again. There were no more tears as she regarded her Servant, who said only one thing afterwards.

“I promise you, win or lose- you will survive this Fire Emblem War. No matter what it takes.”

* * *

It came as no surprise that Assassin’s trail would be hard to pick up- provided he left one at all.

But Gracia was familiar with the mind of a killer; the only thing she needed was a starting point, and she would be able to find even the most cautious of killers.

That was the problem, though. Her starting point- the house she’d broken into yesterday- only accounted for Assassin’s Master. There had been no sign of Assassin himself; he seemed content to leave a small, defenceless girl alone and unprotected. There was no doubt he was up to something.

Said girl had an escape route planned in advance. A tunnel from the basement to the sewers; if Gracia wanted to, she could easily follow exactly where her target had gone, following the trail and finishing the job she’d started the day before.

But the surveillance drone had forced her to change her approach somewhat. From the way the mouse-sized device had been lurking around the house, it was clear Clementine was trying to keep tabs on Assassin’s Master.

With that in mind…

It was perhaps time to find a new target. Gracia’s mere presence would be enough to break these devices, so she had to keep her movements somewhat erratic. If a series of them- between the house and wherever the girl was now- broke, anyone could deduce something was up.

She had six enemy sides to contend with. And while she had the opportunity to deal with the most elusive of them, it wouldn’t do her any favours in the long term.

“You seem deep in thought.”

Hand hovering over her inner jacket pocket, Gracia held back any visible reaction. Had she been snuck up on? Who could have possibly-

“Please, do not be alarmed. It’s my duty to know all the participants of this war.”

A hooded figure, with a shadow over their eyes, stood before Gracia, whose expression hardened.

“There’s a very small list of people who have the right to say that. A member of the church, or…”

The hooded girl smiled.

“Guardian, the seventh and final servant.”

“You’re well informed. Yes, that is correct. And you are the only Master the church does not know of in this war. I thought I’d take a look at you myself…”

“Perhaps a visit to the church is in order,” Gracia said sardonically, “maybe if I have a nice, long chat with the mediator, he’ll tell me who my enemies are. That’d definitely save me a lot of trouble.”

“Always an option. But you would be forcing my hand; I must protect the impartiality of the overseer in this war.”

“Hmph. Maybe I’ll bring Saber to deal with you, then.”

Guardian turned silent.

Neither of the two moved; Gracia was leant against the wall of the alleyway she’d taken a moment to rest in, and Guardian stood at the entrance.

“So? Will you be telling the church who the final Master is?”

“No. In truth, I’m only here out of curiosity. Permit me to ask you…to what length would you go to realise your deepest desire?”

“What, is that all…?” Gracia seemed almost disappointed by the question, but answered it regardless, “it’s the one thing I’ve always wanted. Of course I’ll stop at nothing for it.”

“Is that desperation…?”

The assassin snorted.

“Not the word I’d choose, but sure. Anything else?”

Guardian pondered for a moment. Her robe fluttered as a cool breeze swept through the alley.

“May I join you for a while? I would like to learn more about the mysterious, secretive Master.”

“Kinda busy…”

“An hour of your time, if you will.”

The blonde mage shrugged, and walked past the hooded girl. Attacking her with so little information would be a mistake, and bringing Saber into the mix would lead to an explosive battle downtown- something best avoided, as she didn’t need any extra attention.

“Fine. We can get ice cream,” Gracia said, only glancing back to add, “no interrogations, though.”

“Ice cream, hm? That certainly sounds agreeable. I may as well sample this era’s delights while I can,” Guardian responded, following the woman.

“But still…” Gracia said, “for the supposed strongest Servant, you don’t seem like much…what’s your gimmick, I wonder…?”

The mage caught a coy smile from under the hood.

“No interrogations, right?”

* * *

The scene inside Harold’s hotel room resembled a standoff.

Although both parties were seated- Archer had only just taken material form- neither moved an inch, and both Master and Servant sent probing glances at the other at irregular intervals. The air was thick with tension, and nothing broke the grim silence.

Harold was frozen with fear, and hadn’t slept that night. Someone- or something- had attacked his Servant, almost killing him, and yet Archer refused to talk about what had happened. The mage had considered using a Command Seal to force him to speak, but he’d already wasted one on the first night of fighting; he had to conserve them as best as he could.

If only his Servant wasn’t so proud. What had he done to wind up with such a stubborn Heroic Spirit?

“Harold.”

Harold almost jumped out of his skin.

“Y-yes, Archer?”

“I’m back at full strength now.”

The mage could feel all hope of his Servant learning from his near-death experience deflate slowly.

“Archer…uhm…please tell me what happened.”

“No,” Archer shot down Harold’s request sharply, “rather, why don’t you tell me what you accomplished yesterday?”

Harold gulped loudly; he felt sweat begin to form on his forehead.

“Well- I- ah…”

“You know what your problem is, Master?”

“I- no, uh…”

The mage was just pointlessly stammering; he knew it would be better to shut up and listen, but he felt he had to defend himself…somehow.

“You’re so quick to rely on others to do things for you…it sickens me. Pulling your own weight is a foreign act to you, Master.”

The way Archer addressed him was lined the faintest hint of sarcasm.

“You want to work with other Masters? Ha! You just want someone to win this war for you, don’t you?”

Harold was speechless; he had nothing to counter Archer’s words.

“What made you think you stood a chance in this war? Do you even have a wish, or a goal? You certainly don’t act like you do.”

“I…don’t.”

The room fell silent once again after Harold’s admission.

“You wretched fool,” Archer spat, dematerialising and leaving the hotel.

His Master sat back, ran a hand across his face, and began to seriously think about what he wanted from this war.

* * *

While Archer was leaving, more Servants were converging on the hotel Harold Galloway was taking residence in.

Rather brazenly, Felicia- with Lancer sat behind her- brought her motorbike to a screeching halt directly outside the hotel in broad daylight. Although his Master had convinced him to change into less conspicuous attire for this outing, he’d kept his visor on, which made Felicia wonder if there’d been any point in forcing him to change in the first place.

Both knew that, in the long run, it didn’t really matter, but that didn’t stop the redhead mage from scowling at her Servant as they entered the hotel.

Lancer knew he was here for one reason only; as Felicia approached the lobby’s front desk, he glanced around the inside of the hotel, keeping an eye out for any suspicious folk or out of place objects. And when he was satisfied there were none, he closed his eyes and concentrated momentarily.

“Master.”

“What?” Felicia snapped, wheeling around on her Servant.

“I can’t feel any Heroic Spirits in the vicinity.”

“You- I- huh. That…helps a lot, actually.”

“Will we be proceeding as planned?”

The woman scratched her cheek as she stepped away from the front desk. Lancer hadn’t expected to be thanked; manners didn’t seem to come naturally to his Master.

“I guess…their Master might be in his room, still.”

After Felicia had returned from her unproductive visit to the church, she immediately napped her bad mood off, and the moment she woke up, she declared that it was time to extensively monitor some of the enemies.

The easiest choice was Archer’s Master; not only had he not left his room for over a day, his hotel room was listed under his real name.

“The name ‘Galloway’ commands a lot of respect in the Association due to how influential yet clean the family manages to be,” Felicia explained to her Servant as she led him through a door that clearly stated ‘employees only’, “they have a fairly moderate standing in Association, but they don’t get caught up the power play and shady shit other families and mages at that level might.”

Stopping only to muddle the memories of the security guards they came across, the mage continued, “but as soon as you put ‘Harold’ in front of that name, you can throw any sort of respect out of the picture. Like a typical Galloway, he stays clean, but unlike his predecessors, he’s a weak, soft-hearted, childish excuse of a mage. Some say he barely knows any magecraft, and he’s so pitiful he refuses to meet with any strangers.”

“But that begs the question,” Lancer said, as the two entered another doorway, leading them through a narrow corridor, “why on earth would someone like him participate in this war?”

“Beats me. My guess is he’s being forced to by his family, or something.”

“Doesn’t that contradict what you just told me about the Galloways?”

Felicia scowled, and opened another door with a little too much force.

“I said, they don’t get _caught_. Who knows what kind of crap they’re up to behind the scenes?” she said, choosing to knock out the guard sitting before a sea of screens, the sight of which caused her to grimace.

“With this shit again…” she muttered. Lancer hid his slight amusement at her pained expression; how long before she escaped having to sit in front of a wall of monitors?

Dejectedly slumping into her seat, Felicia eyeballed the setup under the CCTV feed, and began fiddling with the field of lights, buttons and keys, until-

“Okay, this should work,” the mage said, “I can probably hack into the system and plant a few cameras in Harold’s room…”

Lancer silently watched his master skilfully work with devices and technology far out of his field of knowledge, awaiting to see how she’d hack the mainframe. After Felicia took a small pause, she plucked a small USB stick from her pocket, and inserted it into the console.

Several seconds passed. A tapping sound filled the room.

“They say patience is a virtue,” Lancer idly commented, noticing Felicia tapping her chair in irritation.

The tapping continued at a greater intensity.

“You’re not helping.”

“Apologies, Master.”

Eventually, Felicia pulled the stick out, and started fiercely typing.

“Well, the program worked…let’s see…I guess Hammy Harold hasn’t used room service at all. There goes my first plan.”

“First plan?”

Felicia reclined in the chair, vaguely looking in Lancer’s direction.

“I have some really tiny cameras I wanna sneak in his room- they have mics too- to help keep track of him, but if I can’t attach them to someone entering his room…”

“Perhaps another method of entry can be used. How about the drainage system?”

Leaning forward, Felicia felt her scowl return.

“For some reason, it pisses me off when you have good ideas.”

“Should I accept that as a compliment?”

“Shove it up your ass for all I care.”

* * *

Rain was beginning to tap on the windows, as though demanding entrance into the enclosed room. Harold felt at ease, for the first time in over a week. All that was on his mind slowly washed into a tiny puddle in his brain; perhaps this would help him come to the conclusions he needed?

Pit, pat.

Pit, pat.

Pit, pat, _thunk_.

Harold jolted to his feet at the sudden noise, his anxiety exploding back into his mind in a single heartbeat. He let out a choked gasp when he saw a figure behind him.

“W-w-who?!” he stammered.

“Please be calm,” the man said; his head was partially covered, but his face was exposed- most notably, his red eyes gazed piercingly at the mage. No hostility emanated from him, but there was no doubt in Harold’s mind.

This man…was a Servant.

“You are…the Master of Archer,” the Servant said. His voice was rough, but quiet.

“H-how did you…?”

“You said you are willing to cooperate with other Masters…correct?”

It was easy to deduce that he’d been listening in to the argument that had taken place not long before- but could he seriously be implying what Harold thought he was?

“I- yes, well…uh…I d-demand to know who you are, first!”

Any threatening tone in Harold’s voice was undermined by its rising pitch.

“I am Assassin. I have come on behalf of my Master…to request your aid.”

It was too good to be true.

“Y-you’re joking, right?”

“No. This danger runs deeper than the Fire Emblem War. If we don’t stop Caster…the entire city- maybe even the world- will be in danger.”

“Th- wah?”

Harold didn’t quite comprehend what Assassin was talking about, and clearly signalled by his baffled expression. After a short sigh, the Servant continued.

“Caster has created an army of Morphs- replicas of humans, with high magical power- and is using them to steal the quintessence of ordinary civilians from all over the city.”

The sound of rain- now hammering heavily on the windows- was all that could be heard for several grim moments. The mage could barely fathom what he’d just been told.

“But that’s…not allowed…right?”

“It’s far too late for the rules to be considered.”

Harold fell back in his seat, the gravity of the situation becoming apparent.

While Archer was obsessed with Rider- or whoever had almost killed him- Caster was amassing power…and creating an army.

“What…can I even do to help?”

Assassin moved in closer, looming over the mage, whose breath halted for a split second.

“I cannot fight Caster alone. I need allies.”

“I don’t think Archer will want to help…”

“You are his Master. In the end, it is your decision…”

The seated man’s eyes widened as he glanced at the back of his hand. With such a dangerous enemy…the use of a Command Seal could be justified…

“When do you need his help?”

“Tomorrow, at sundown.”

Assassin didn’t mention why- there was no need to mention how he’d benefit in the cover of the night, nor how he wanted to find other allies.

“Where is Caster located?”

“Get a map. I’ll mark it out for you.”

As Harold scrambled to find a map, he felt a tingling sense of joy in his heart. The rain had gifted him with the chance he’d been hoping for since the start of a war.

“See, Archer? Cooperation gets you everywhere…” he muttered, a small smirk creeping on his face.

Assassin simply and silently watched the man with a hawkish gaze.

* * *

Nagilis Central Library was not somewhere Kerry even remotely thought about before the Fire Emblem War, let alone considered visiting. But it had been a good spot for an all-nighter, and convincing Caster hadn’t been too difficult.

The main reason he wanted to visit, however, was to do some research.

He’d totally flunked his history classes during school, and barely knew any historic figures, but that wasn’t going to stop him from taking the initiative. Firstly, he wanted to read up on his own Servant- the real Caster, who he’d only seen once.

But when he’d asked the girl posing as Caster after his Servant’s identity…

“Master, please…we mustn’t speak of this where others might overhear…” ‘Caster’ had scolded him lightly. From his seat, Kerry shot her his best attempt at puppy-eyes that he could manage.

The girl leant closer, and her breath tickling Kerry’s ear, causing him to freeze up on the spot.

“Maybe you could ask him? I can escort you to him, if you wish,” she whispered. Kerry’s blush faded away at the thought of him meeting with his Servant again.

“N-no thanks…honestly, he creeps me the fuck out.”

Caster didn’t seem to understand what he meant, but the young man didn’t elaborate, choosing to climb out of his chair and approach one of the many rows of books marked under ‘history’.

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m just going to point at each book, and you can poke me when something about him might be in one.”

Caster slowly nodded.

By mid-morning, Kerry was flicking through an enormous hardback, detailing major conflicts on the continent of Elibe, looking for anyone mentioned that could possibly now be his Servant-

A finger came into view, stopping him from turning to the next page, guiding his view to one name.

‘Nergal’.

Caster withdrew her delicate, pale finger, and continued looking around the library, paying little notice to Kerry’s surprised look.

The young man continued reading, expelling a large yawn as his eyes darted over the page.

“There sure is a lot about him…” he murmured. Caster did not respond, but the beginnings of a grimace were forming on her face. Kerry kept reading; something about ‘Morphs’, something about ‘Quintessence’, something about…killing thousands?

The big, confusing words were too much for his sleep-deprived brain, but the last part he could definitely comprehend. Calmly, he closed the book, and took a deep breath.

“What…do you think his wish is?” he whispered. Caster pulled a face, but Kerry’s stare was resolute- or as much as he could manage.

Eventually, the Morph folded.

“I think…he doesn’t have a wish…all he wants is the Emblem’s power.”

“And? What do you want?”

“…Me?” Caster’s eyes went wide, “I…was created to protect you. I don’t have any desires…”

With his mind freshly saturated with new information, and hunger settling in once again, Kerry let out a sigh, and stood up, heading towards the library exit. He never knew how to handle this girl when she recited her life’s mission.

Caster quickly followed after him, and the two took a step into the downpour waiting for them outside.

“Fuck’s sake…”

“Are you alright, Master?”

“Really wish I’d brought an umbrella…”

“Should we stay inside until it passes over?”

“Nah…let’s just look for somewhere warm.”

The two wandered down the street, neither saying a word, making small splashes with every step. They didn’t get very far, though; both stopped when they noticed a man with dark green hair sat on a fence nearby, staring straight at Kerry.

Caster smoothly moved in front of her Master, subtly ready to defend him.

“As I thought…a Master, huh?” the man said, leaping in front of them, but only making a light splash despite the impact.

“Who are you…?” Kerry asked, while Caster sent the man a warning glare.

“Don’t mind me…although we are technically enemies, I have nothing to prove by slaughtering a weak opponent. Besides, I’d probably get an earful from my Master if I did…not that I care.”

“Are you…a Servant? Which one?”

The man smirked, making eye contact with Kerry, who unconsciously took a step back.

“I’m Archer. And you?”

“Master…” Caster said, concern lining her voice.

“I-I’m Kerry Denton. Master of Caster.”

“Oh my, looks like you do have some backbone. I’m slightly jealous of Caster…wherever they are.”

“What do you want from me?” Kerry found himself demanding; he knew this person was incredibly dangerous to him, but he felt confident enough with Caster close by, who could protect him if things got rough.

“Not much…I was just scouting out the area, and happened to notice you. That’s all,” Archer explained, “but you don’t seem to be much of a mage. What are you doing in a magical war?”

Kerry paused, and gulped.

“I kinda just…wound up in it, honestly. But I’m doing my part by staying alive for my Servant…I guess…?”

“Is that so…? Well, allow me to applaud you for not wallowing in a dark room, hoping your enemies don’t find you, like some…coward.”

Kerry found it hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or just bitter. Caster frowned, unable to catch the Servant’s tone, but aware that she was missing something in the conversation.

Archer barely glanced at the Morph before returning his attention to Kerry.

“So? What’s in it for you?”

“…What do you mean?”

“What else? What do you want out of this war? What wish do you want from the Fire Emblem?”

“Uh…pass?”

Archer shook his head, and placed a hand across his face.

“Disappointing, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said, “besides, what does it matter? With me as your foe, you stand no chance of winning.”

With a shrug, Archer turned on the two, and vanished into the rain, leaving Kerry to think about what he actually wanted.

* * *

As the afternoon passed, so too did the grim weather; by sundown, only the damp streets left any signs of the rain that had filled the day. Although it was getting late, a single child could be found in a kid’s playground, merrily operating the swing by herself with no regard for the wet conditions.

It was a quiet neighbourhood, in the Soldier’s Sanctuary district.

There was no one to witness the black haired woman enter the playground, approaching the child with a fiendish smirk on her face.

“Oh- hello, miss,” the girl said politely. The woman chuckled in response.

“What an adorable little creature you are. What are you doing here all by yourself?”

“My house is down the street from here, so I can come and play whenever I want!”

The woman’s golden eyes glinted.

“Oh my…there’s a problem with that. You never know what sort of maligned fellows you can come across, out on your own…”

She reached out, and laid her hand on the child’s head, making eye contact.

“Now, come with me…your life may be worthless, but your Aether will be of great use in forging a new world…”

The girl’s eyes lost all light, and her face slacked, all the joy it previously held vanishing without a trace.

“There…good-”

But before the Morph could congratulate herself, a sound like a blade cutting through air came from right next to her head; her eyes slowly trailed down to see a gleaming sword of light hanging near her exposed neck.

“Caster, I assume?”

The Morph clenched her teeth, rooted to the spot. From the corner of her eye, she saw a masked man clad in blue, holding a formless shining sword.

“Release this child at once. I will not stand for any harm to befall an innocent.”

“Saber…” the gold eyed woman growled, sending the Servant a hateful look as she stepped away from him and the child. Saber stepped forward, lowering his sword to the side, and rested his free hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

The child blinked, and looked up at his rescuer with bewilderment.

“Whoa…cool mask, mister…”

Saber smiled softly, and pat the girl’s head.

“Head straight home, alright? It’s not safe here right now.”

After nodding, the child dashed away from the playground, leaving Saber alone with the Morph.

“What were you planning on doing to her? She has nothing to do with the war,” the blue haired man interrogated the woman. She grinned sardonically.

“If you want to find out, perhaps you should donate your store of magical energy to me?”

“Unfortunately, I’m not very charitable towards kidnappers. Perhaps you’d like to try taking it from me by force?” Saber challengingly lifted his blade, its brilliant shine bringing out the faintest trepidation from the Morph.

A tense silence passed.

Saber frowned- an act that would not be seen by the Morph- and glanced around the playground. Around him, puddles were beginning to evaporate, and the fake Caster was grinning triumphantly.

The Morph thrust her hand forward, and the ground beneath them parted.

“Bolganone!” she yelled, molten lava exploding from the ground, engulfing the whole playground; the swing, the climbing frame, everything was blanketed by the powerful fire magic. A hissing filled the air, and everything under the magic began melting as the Morph watched with a smirk.

Something was out of place, though.

Or rather, something was missing.

Saber had been right next to the eruption- to avoid it, he’d need unparalleled speed…or clairvoyance.

“How unfortunate…that child seemed to enjoy playing here.”

The woman wheeled around to find the Heroic Spirit, on the pavement, utterly unharmed, bitterly surveying the scene of destruction.

“Pah! What do you care? You’re next!” she said, but Saber didn’t immediately react.

“Is there nothing I can do to at least convince you to fight me in a more suitable location?”

The fake Caster grinned.

“Oh, sure…” she said, outstretching her arm, “just hold st-”

In a flash, Saber sprinted forwards, slamming the Morph’s abdomen with the hilt of his sword, and leapt backwards. Underneath where he’d previously stood, a small crack had formed on the pavement.

The woman wheezed, and clicked her tongue.

“I would really prefer you didn’t scar the landscape of this city. There are people trying to live their lives here,” Saber said firmly. In response, another crack formed underneath him; the Morph stepped backwards slowly, nursing the point where she’d been struck, and kept her gaze locked on Saber, watching as he leapt to the side.

Then, before he even reached the ground, the woman sent the fiery wave of destruction that had engulfed the playground at him, whilst the road he’d just been standing on exploded, enveloping several cars with the powerful fire magic.

But the Morph could only grin triumphantly for a split second.

As Saber’s foot met the pavement, he pivoted, and sprang into the air, over the Morph.

“N-no-“

The golden eyed woman could not react; in one clean stroke, her left arm was cleanly separated from her body.

“AAAUUGH!” she shrieked, as Saber pointed his sword at her, ready to close the distance and strike again.

“You…you’re not Caster, are you?” the swordsman said, “for my blade to have cut through you so easily…you must have been formed using some kind of dark magic. And since I cannot sense you…what manner of being are you?”

The Morph glared at him hatefully, clutching her shoulder in an attempt to hide the purple mist rising from the wound. Saber hadn’t budged an inch, calmly gazing at his opponent, waiting for a reaction.

Then, after a self-derisive chuckle, the Morph spoke.

“I…I can’t win. You’re too strong.”

“You’re surrendering?”

“Yes…please, I cannot attack you like this…I won’t pick on innocents anymore. Could you…let me go?”

The woman’s gold eyes desperately met Saber’s mask, as the Heroic Spirit warily considered her surrender.

On the one hand, she could be trying to get him to drop his guard.

But if she was being truthful, this would be a chance to get information out of the fake Caster, at the very least.

“Very well,” he said, lowering his sword, “but I request that you provide information before I let you leave.”

The Morph’s face lit up.

“What would you like to know?”

“Hm…firstly, I’d-”

Saber suddenly cut himself off, twisting his neck to see a huge blade of lightning barrel towards him from behind.

And in that split second, it met its mark.

The swordsman bit down his cry of pain, but the wound was large; part of his abdomen had turned into a smoking, charred mess.

But the one registering shock was the Morph.

“Y-you…that was aimed at your chest! How the hell did you dodge?!” she shrieked, “there’s no way you could have seen it coming!”

A flash of light burst from Saber’s hand, and a column of light in the shape of a sword formed, as his other hand covered the magic-induced wound.

“Pah, whatever! You won’t last long against us in that condition.”

The mask covered any reaction the Heroic Spirit may have shown, his mouth a simple flat line.

* * *

Some distance away from the fight between Saber and the Morph, a man with short black hair carefully rested his back against a tree, taking a peak at the battle every so often.

Electricity crackled between his fingertips as he readied a second attack; Saber wasn’t meant to have survived the first one, but his companion had probably screwed up her mock-surrender somehow.

It was of little consequence. The male Morph’s gold eyes glinted as he thought of the reward he’d get for beating Saber.

Oh, but he’d also need to claim the credit for it, also. And that would mean-

“You there. Shifty looking mage.”

A woman’s sharp voice cut through his thought train. He turned to see a woman, garbed in bright red armour, holding a long, mighty axe.

Rider.

“…Wuh-oh…”

“Whatever you’re sulking around here for, you can’t be up to any good.”

As Rider took a step forward, the Morph threw the lightning magic he’d been intending to use on Saber- but the woman easily saw through the telegraphed attack, sidestepping it swiftly.

“Guh…” the man said, stepping backwards, past the tree. His movement was quickly halted by another solid obstacle.

As he turned to see what it was, Rider flashed a smirk; the Morph let out a yell as he came face to face with a wyvern. And in the moments he was paralysed in fear, the dragoon closed the distance, swiftly striking the fake Caster.

In that instance, he was no more.

The Heroic Spirit spared half a glance at her handiwork, then pet her mount’s head softly.

“Nice job,” she said, absentmindedly pausing for a moment. Without a doubt, she could feel another Servant in the vicinity. Too close to warrant flying there, at least, so she chose to pass through the thicket of trees and bushes on foot.

“Oh my…” a remark left her lips, spotting a man dressed in blue standing on a road, near the fading body of a Morph. Although he was badly wounded, he began to hoist his formless sword over his head.

Saber gazed up at the sunset-coloured sky, and spoke one word; the sword burst, coating the servant in a cleansing light.

Rider watched with awe as any battle scars Saber had quickly vanished, as if they’d never existed in the first place. Her eyes trailed up to the sword-

“It can’t be…” Rider said, “is that…Falchion?”

She stood, frozen to the spot, a stunned look crossing her face. Saber lowered his Noble Phantasm, and it faded from view, as the swordsman began to walk away.

“Wait!”

The woman in red dashed towards Saber, who turned to face her.

Falchion’s light had gone, and the sunset was growing weaker.

“Are you…Marth?”

Although the mask covered his face, the hair, build, clothing, and sword could only belong to one person. But Saber did not immediately react; Rider realised she was still holding her axe. She dematerialised it, in case the Servant before her took it as a sign of aggression.

Seconds felt like minutes; Rider’s typically stern gaze was laced with uncertainty as she stared at Saber’s mask.

And then…

A soft, warm smile.

“You look well, Lady Minerva,” Saber said, “to meet with you again is an honour…though it brings me regret that we cannot fight together like old times.”

As soon as she heard ‘Minerva’, Rider gasped.

“You…really are…”

“I’m sorry. I must leave now…but I hope we will meet again, in kinder conditions.”

With that, Saber leapt away, onto a building, and out of sight.

Minerva did not follow; she calmly closed her eyes, the image of Falchion’s holy light burned into her memory.

Saber had identified her by just looking at her. They’d fought two wars together- it was only natural he’d be able to.

“Marth…”

Rider was torn; she didn’t exactly want to fight someone she respected so much, but part of her was just happy she’d been given the chance to meet him again.

Of course, she’d have to share her discovery with her Master- provided he didn’t already know.

With one last glance in the direction Marth had gone, Minerva faded along with the sun’s light.

* * *

- _Night Four_ -

Saber didn’t cover much ground before he was brought to a stop; his cape fluttered as he gracefully landed on another rooftop, further into the city than when he’d fought the fake Caster. The night was young, and the urban skyline provided a marvellous backdrop.

He wasn’t alone up there.

A figure was crouched near the edge, hawkishly glancing around, before turning to face Saber.

“You…are Assassin, correct? I can’t sense you, but you’re definitely a Heroic Spirit…”

“…That is correct.”

Assassin’s cold eyes were now fixed on the swordsman, as if evaluating him.

“I presume you watched the battle earlier?”

Saber received a nod in response. Assassin was the servant to be especially cautious around in any Fire Emblem War; typically weak in any direct confrontations, they were the type to set traps and use underhanded methods to kill their opponents.

However, this Servant’s gaze bore straight into Saber’s mask, unflinching as he spoke.

“I need your help…to defeat Caster.”

This hadn’t been what Saber was expecting, but he indicated for Assassin to continue, interest piqued.

“Caster has created numerous Morphs in order to round up residents of this city and draw out their Quintessence with his Noble Phantasm. He gains more and more power through this, and creates more and more Morphs. The longer he is allowed to live…the stronger he becomes.”

Saber raised a hand to his chin, his mind churning this information.

“So that’s what that woman was trying to do to that child…” he muttered.

“My Master…wants the people of this city to be safe,” Assassin continued, “and I have…somewhat of a score to settle with Caster. But…”

“You can’t do it alone?”

“I’m no match for him alone. My Noble Phantasm means little against his dark magic. However, yours…”

Falchion- the sword of light- possibly the most widely known regalia of legend. It held many properties, and was among the most potent of Noble Phantasms.

With it, one could cut through even the strongest of dark sorcery.

“…Would you have asked for my help, even if I hadn’t shown my Noble Phantasm?” Saber asked, out of the blue. Assassin’s stare never wavered as he responded.

“Yes. I need all the help I can get…”

The blue haired man smiled.

“I will gladly lend you my assistance. Is there anything more about Caster you can tell me?”

Assassin’s composure didn’t change as he spoke, even after Saber had voiced his agreement to help.

“…Plenty. His name is Nergal. His dark sorcery is potent, but his ability to adapt his magic to best combat his enemy’s fighting style is his most dangerous skill.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Saber said resolutely, earning a small nod from Assassin, “when do you plan to attack?”

“Tomorrow night. We’ll meet up at a location close to his hideout in the evening. Archer will be lending his support also. As for how to get there…”

After providing directions, and receiving thanks from Saber, Assassin excused himself, and blended in with the darkness of the night.

* * *

A bitter wind crossed Archer as he stood at the peak of one of Nagilis’ magnificent skyscrapers. Suffice to say, it matched his mood. Though he was less heated than he was that morning, the irritation was building up; he wasn’t looking to make friends in this war, and neither should his Master.

His attention was focused on the bustling city below. There was no point scanning the horizon for Rider, since, at this altitude, there was nowhere for her to sneak up on him.

Beads of light rolled across the weaving roads within valleys of glowing, towering structures. For the untrained eye, the glittering lights were indistinguishable from one another. But for Archer, identifying the source of each light was child’s play. Not only that, but popping an arrow at anything in his sight would be a trivial affair. From this vantage point…

He only needed a target. His arrows would do the rest.

As any archer must be, he was a patient man, carefully and steadily looking out for other Servants; any hint of irritation he felt around his Master was gone. He was in his element now.

Allowing his mind to wonder as he kept a lookout, Archer thought back to his meeting with Kerry earlier. Although the kid wasn’t much, he was still more interesting than his own Master would ever be.

“The grass is greener on the other side…” Archer muttered, as if to remind himself.

After a short silence, something finally caught his eye.

The fancy motorbike was nothing particularly special, but the man riding it…

Was it his clothing? His visor?

He didn’t fit in with his surroundings.

But, in case this man wasn’t a Servant, Archer decided to fire a warning shot. One which would only be noticeable to those with a Heroic Spirit’s instincts.

As the biker drove onto the mostly empty Nagilis Highway- a road which circled the city, making it easy for drivers to get from one side of the city to another without driving through the busy streets- Archer fired his first arrow, aiming behind the bike.

From the distance and force it struck the road, a normal person would barely feel a faint vibration. But if it was a Servant…

The bike screeched to a halt.

“Bingo.”

With a quick glance at the offending arrow, and a quick scan around the area, the enemy Servant drove off again, accelerating beyond legal limits.

A moving target- even one of such impressive velocity- was hardly an issue for Archer. With only a small pause, another arrow tore through the sky, piercing the biker’s thigh. The vehicle came to a halt once again, as the Servant tore out the arrow, a spear forming in his hand.

“Lancer, then. As if it could have been anyone else…”

It was strange. Archer knew he’d seen Lancer before, but couldn’t seem to recall anything about his appearance. Perhaps a skill, or his Noble Phantasm, was interfering with his memory?

Lancer had now turned around, and was driving back at high speed; but the route he’d chosen brought him closer to Archer, rather than away.

It didn’t matter. Whether Lancer chose to run, or to fight, the result would be the same; as long as his target was in sight, Archer’s arrows would find their mark. His style wasn’t the kind to bombard an enemy- rather, he preferred to use as few arrows as possible. Conservation was key in any battle, and Archer’s aim was almost always true.

“No need to use my Noble Phantasm…not when I can settle things like this.”

The next arrow speared through Lancer’s knee, causing him to swerve and struggle to stay balanced. But the Servant kept driving, lance in hand; as expected for a knight class, he had high endurance.

Archer’s eyes hadn’t left his prey since spotting him.

Drawing his bow once again, he readied another strike, which hurtled straight at Lancer’s arm…

…and embedded itself in the road.

Confusion and surprise struck Archer, but he knew better than to lose composure over a single miss. Once again, he drew his bow, and aimed for the same spot.

“…Oh, I see how it is…”

This arrow had penetrated the road in front of Lancer; he’d slowed down mere seconds before the arrow hit, and sped past it. It was a simple tactic, but one that confirmed an incredible level of skill in riding. Lancer couldn’t see the arrows coming, but by adjusting his speed at random intervals, Archer would have a hard time predicting where to attack. His arrows were fast, but they still took time to close the distance between them.

However, as Lancer drew closer, this tactic became less effective.

Archer had figured out Lancer’s range of speed; his max speed and rate of deceleration were the two key factors here. He drew back his bow, this time aiming for the head-

It was too late.

Lancer had twisted the bike to its side, planting his spear in the ground to grind the vehicle to an abrupt halt. He sprung off the bike, a golden aura bursting around his weapon.

In that split second, a blurring flash of light exploded through the corner of the building Archer was perched on, blasting a huge chunk off the structure only a meter away from the bowman; his eyes boggled at the display as he stood, frozen in place.

Archer broke out into a cold sweat.

He hadn’t even seen it coming. He couldn’t have.

Already, the spear had faded from sight, so Archer couldn’t identify it.

It had been…faster than his arrows. Faster than even he could follow. That flash of gold had reached his position in under a second. Something even he couldn’t distinguish. And its power…

“So that was…his Noble Phantasm…” Archer breathed, his eyes darting back to where his opponent had last been. But of course, he was gone. And rather frustratingly, the bowman had no recollection of what he looked like.

It all made sense now. Lancer had taken the first two blows intentionally, to gauge his assailant’s position. Then, he’d dodged the other arrows, and used his Noble Phantasm when he’d gotten close enough.

The only reason it’d missed is because Lancer wasn’t the trained marksman Archer was. Otherwise, the bowman would have instantly died. In that sense, this fight had brought him closer to death than even that dragon…

A chill raced up Archer’s spine.

“This is it…perfect…” he muttered, a grin crawling on his face. He’d be hard pressed to win a war with such mighty opponents…but that was what he was here for.

* * *

Saber found himself in another dimly lit room- Gracia seemed to like these- with his Master apparently dozing off in a small chair; he must have kept her waiting. A guilty sigh escaped the Servant’s lips, earning him nothing more than a raised eyebrow from Gracia.

“I’m-”

“Yeah, yeah. I make use of our connection sometimes, y’know. But it got boring, and I’ve had a long day,” Gracia said, cutting the man’s apology off.

“Oh…did something happen?”

“I went on a date with Guardian. We had ice cream. I learnt disappointingly little. She wouldn’t leave me alone for the whole day,” Gracia’s explanation was beginning to sound more like a complaint, as she shut her eyes in recollection, “but hey, I reckon you could take her.”

Saber pensively thought on this for a moment.

“I think I…want to meet her for myself. She sounds rather fascinating,” he said, flashing a small smile.

“Hmph. Maybe you can go on the next date, then. Just make sure you skewer her at the end, we’ve got a war to win.”

Saber made a pained look, but didn’t respond. The mage was no longer close to sleep, and now levelly gazed at her Servant, ready to interrogate him.

“You’ve been busy, I gather.”

“…Yes. There’s good news and bad news.”

Gracia looked expectantly at him, so he continued.

“…Rider saw my Noble Phantasm, but I was able to assess her identity. Also…”

His Master’s chuckle cut him off.

“Let me guess. A sneak attack?” when Saber looked away, Gracia continued, “that’s your weakness, I suppose. Be more careful from now on…okay? Now, about Rider…”

“Yes…her true name is Minerva, princess of Medon. As for her Noble Phantasm…”

“If it’s Minerva, then…she must have two, right? There’s her axe, Hauteclere, the obvious one, but there’s also Iote’s Shield, which she claimed from her brother after besting him in the War of Shadows.”

Saber paused, visibly impressed by Gracia’s explanation.

“Oh…you’re very knowledgeable, Master. I’m impressed. You’re correct.”

“Of course I am. I researched a lot in preparation for this war. I need to know what I have at my disposal, and what I might be up against,” Gracia said, waving aside her Servant’s praise, “more importantly, you know what this means, don’t you?”

“Iote’s Shield protects fliers from their typical weaknesses…so Archer might be caught off guard as a result. And Hauteclere…”

“Is your real problem, yes. It’s just as old as Akaneia’s Regalia, but it gained reputation that it was built specifically to combat them at some point. Divine weapons- such as your Falchion- become almost powerless before it. Not to mention its incredible power. This is important information…so, nice find, Saber.”

Her finger tapped on her chair rhythmically for several seconds, as she considered what she’d just learnt from her Servant.

“Avoid her for now. She’ll be a tough opponent- maybe moreso than Lancer,” Gracia said, “anything else?”

Saber nodded.

“An offer. Assassin wants my help to beat Caster- whose true name he gave to me.”

“Caster, hm? Do tell.”

“Nergal. He’s using his Morphs, who are posing as ‘Caster’, to gather people up and…steal their Quintessence.”

Although Saber’s disgust was noticeable, Gracia grinned at the new information.

“Morphs, huh? Knockoff homunicli, formed with dark magic and Aether…that does explain a lot. As for Nergal…”

A confident gaze, directed at Saber.

“An easy target for you, right?”

“Yes…I should be able to handle him. The attack will be in the coming evening…”

“Hm. Then I’ll go find and take out Caster’s Master. Since he has a large store of Aether, cutting off his Master’s mana flow won’t do much to cripple him, but it’ll put him on a time- and mana- limit.”

At Gracia’s casual mention of ‘taking out’ Caster’s Master, Saber’s mind began to wonder. He knew his Master wasn’t an inherently evil person- nor did she kill out of malice- but the thought of how many had died at her hands…

It didn’t sit well with someone noble and kind like Saber.

“Saber? What’s wrong?”

“Oh…erm…” the Servant bit his lip before giving an answer, “I was wondering…someone like you…would be more suited to working with an Assassin class servant, right? Yet, you summoned a Saber…”

Gracia reclined in her seat.

“Oh, that? Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’d be on the same wavelength as an Assassin, sure- but there’s a problem with having a Servant with the same set of skills as the Master.”

Saber looked inquisitive, so the mage continued, “their strengths may be the same- but so are their weaknesses. They can’t cover each other’s bases like that. It’s not too complicated. In my case, I wouldn’t have much trouble getting rid of other Masters- so all I needed is a Servant who would have little trouble against other Heroic Spirits. And the best class for that is Saber, famed as the strongest class.”

The Servant had no response other than a small nod. It was sound reasoning, he supposed.

“Anyway. I’m getting some shut eye. You keep watch- and use the day to rest up for your big fight.”

“Yes…thank you. Rest well, Master.”


	7. Day Five

- _Two Days Before the Fire Emblem War_ -

Kerry Denton woke up to what he could only describe as the worst hangover ever.

He was sprawled out on a hard, unfamiliar floor, unable to piece together the events of the previous night as his raging headache ceaselessly bombarded him with pain. He raised a hand to nurse his throbbing head, but halted when he caught sight of the back of his hand.

“The fuck…” he mumbled, “how much did I even drink…?”

The young man could not recall anything about getting a tattoo the previous night. Perhaps he’d been unconscious while getting it? How strange. The design didn’t look recognisable; it looked like something out of a creepy cult.

Had he gone and wound up involving himself in some shady society?

…That would be par for the course, knowing his luck.

His mouth felt so dry. He needed water, and fast. But finding any would be a challenge, considering how he had no idea where he was…

Kerry scratched his head in irritation, and managed to recall one detail:

Drew. That guy who bought him drinks…and possibly- hopefully- was the one who paid for them.

And the drugs.

And the tattoo…

Where was he? Hopefully he was close by, and would shed some light on what the hell had happened.

“Augh…” Kerry grunted, sitting up gradually; from his surroundings, he appeared to be in someone’s apartment, but…whose?

Then, his eyes fell on a cloaked man, standing on the other side of the room, showing only his back. Kerry could only stare in confusion, opening his mouth to vocalise his thoughts, but emitting only a hollow croaking noise.

“Ah…heh. You’ve awakened…’Master’.”

The man turned around, giving Kerry a look at his face; part of his head and one of his eyes was covered by a turban, his hair was green, and under his cruel, mocking grin he had a goatee. He definitely looked unfamiliar, and all his appearance indicated was that the young man was onto something with his crazy cult theory.

“Unfortunately, the sacrifice you prepared for me held far too little Quintessence to be of any use on its own…so, while you were unconscious, I helped myself to everyone in this structure.”

“…Buh?”

Nothing about what the man had said made any sense to Kerry, and the fact that he’d been called ‘Master’ had flown right over his head.

The stranger eyed Kerry contemptuously, and after a few moments passed, he chuckled.

“You…have absolutely no idea what you’ve done, hm?” he said, “well, no matter. You are the one who summoned me here, to this age, and now I have the opportunity to claim ultimate power.”

Although ominous sounding, Kerry didn’t have any understanding of what the man had just said, and his head hurt way too much for him to start deciphering what he’d been told. He needed more sleep…or some water.

“Who…are you, anyway?” Kerry asked.

“I am of the Caster class. So you may call me as such.”

“…Come again?”

The young man was starting to feel slightly unsafe; both the room he couldn’t identify and the blatantly suspicious cultish man were starting to worry him…and his headache. Having little recollection of the previous night wasn’t helping.

“I require two things from you, boy. You may be ignorant, but these simple tasks are trivial matters. That said- fulfil them, and you will be grandly rewarded.”

At the mention of a reward, Kerry perked up.

“Y-yeah? How…’trivial’ are we talking, here…?”

“Firstly…I require a layout of this settlement, as well as a good location to set up my workshop.”

Realising he was still sat on the floor, Kerry picked himself up, and rifled through his pockets for his phone. To his relief, it still had some battery left, so he opened up a map and presented it to the cloaked man.

“I can, er, zoom in if you want,” he said, as the strange man leaned in, peering at the screen with his one eye.

“...I can memorise the general layout quickly. This will suffice.”

“Oh, aha, okay…” dizzy on his feet, Kerry continued, “so, what sort of place do you need for your…workshop?”

The headache was flaring up again, and the young man decided that no reward was worth it; giving this creepy man directions and watching him leave would be enough.

“Spacious. Out of public gaze…but a close proximity to a large group of people would be beneficial.”

“I guess this apartment isn’t good enough, huh…?”

“Of course.”

Struggling to recall anything with his paining brain, Kerry glanced at the screen the man was so transfixed with, looking for a location that might jog his memory.

“…would an indoor parking lot work?” he suggested, pointing in the general direction he had in mind, “there’s one that goes pretty much unused in the shitty end of the high street in Soldier’s Sanctuary.”

A moment of consideration passed. The man with a turban stepped away.

“I will survey it myself…but first,” he said, “I must create you a bodyguard.”

Kerry couldn’t even begin to hide his lack of comprehension.

“Heh. With my Noble Phantasm, Aether Harvest, I have collected the Quintessence of all the residents in this building. It’s just enough for me to create a Morph…”

The robed man lifted his hands, and Kerry’s eyes boggled out of their sockets when a dark aura manifested around them, sparks of energy darting around the man’s body. The aura condensed between his two hands, and dripped to the floor. The droplets erupted with energy, blowing Kerry back onto his ass.

He knew he wasn’t dreaming. He was definitely hungover.

So…what was happening?

Awe crossed his face as he blinked rapidly; soon, a feminine figure formed in front of him, and in one last flash, became clad in old fashioned clothing.

The girl’s golden eyes opened, her empty gaze meeting Kerry’s.

“You will refer to her as Caster from now on. You will make no mention of me, and there will be no need for you to approach me under any circumstance. She will protect you…and once I have fulfilled my goal, you will be rewarded.”

What the man was saying barely registered with Kerry as he continued staring at this girl; his headache had exploded as he tried reasoning what had just happened before him.

“…Sure.”

* * *

- _Day Five_ -

For once, Adelina felt refreshed; she’d had the chance to shower and change her clothes for the first time in a week. The guilt of being party to thievery still weighed on her, but allowing herself to stay filthy and miserable could only serve to hinder her chances- and will- to survive.

She felt more…’normal’ now, with a t-shirt and skirt, typical clothing for girls her age. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her traditional cleric robes; she’d simply never had the chance to wear anything else for a very long time.

Currently, there weren’t many positives in her life, so this small comfort of enjoying a minor difference was something Adelina was taking to heart.

Her situation hadn’t really changed; she still had no wish, no plan, nowhere to go. She did, at least, feel more at ease than before; although he was currently not visible, Assassin was beside her, in spirit form.

His presence…was welcome. Now that the girl understood her Servant a little more, she had begun to trust him. His genuine, heartfelt desire was to protect her, even if he was bad at expressing…anything.

Adelina didn’t know what she’d done to deserve such a kind Servant, but she was happy that he didn’t have a wish for the Fire Emblem either. Now, she felt less like an obstacle in his way, and more like…

Well, still not a Master. But maybe a companion?

It was still hard to tell, but she had a better idea of where they stood in relation to each other now. That, in turn, made her feel safer- or at least, more comfortable.

Being protected by Jaffar was reassuring- but so was his desire to stop Caster, whose lust for power had trampled over the lives of so many innocents. Adelina herself had almost become another body on the pile, and she dreaded to think of how many hadn’t been lucky enough to have been rescued.

Her uncle was supposed to intervene in cases like this. The Fire Emblem War was only meant to involve Masters and Servants. But the overseer had done nothing to stop the deaths of hundreds of people, a flagrant act that opposed not only the nature of the war, but also the teaching of Naga herself.

Devout, but only selectively, when it best suited him…that was Friedemann Scheuer. Or so the priest’s niece assumed, at least.

That wouldn’t do. It was time to take matters into her own hands, Adelina decided- or rather, leave them in Assassin’s far more capable hands. The cleric couldn’t actually do anything to help, but…

She did wish she could find Caster’s Master. The man she’d met the other night…

Kerry Denton.

Such a clueless, normal person. Was he just another of Nergal’s victims?

Or did he desire the chaos his Servant was creating?

No matter what his stake in the war was, Caster still had to be dealt with. He was the main problem; a problem which, Adelina prayed, would be solved tonight.

* * *

Although there were a multitude of reasons why Kerry regretted the past week, the leading cause of his grim mood was his crippling hunger. His wallet was nearly empty, going home was forbidden in case of enemy attack, and he didn’t know how to discreetly steal food.

Despite everything, this wasn’t even the first time in his life he’d gone and searched through a bin for anything potentially edible.

“Maybe I should ask bro for some help…ah, but then he might get attacked. This sucks…” the man grumbled, plunging his arm further into the waste. His Morph watched him curiously.

“Would you like some assistance?” she offered.

“Y- nah…”

Kerry suddenly froze up as his fingers brushed against something slimy. He broke out into a cold sweat, and withdrew his hand.

“…ugh,” he grunted, catching a whiff of his hand, “you can do your magic thing, right? Can’t you just conjure me up some food?”

“I’m afraid magic doesn’t work quite like that, Master. I only have a preset kind of magecraft, Fimbulvetr, granted to me by Caster. Although he is now unable to utilise anything other than dark magic, he is well-versed in all types of magic and tomes.”

Kerry’s dismay was plain as day.

“That’s…inconvenient…” he moaned, slumping against a wall, “so, Caster wouldn’t be able to magic me up with food either, then…”

The Morph seemed genuinely concerned as her Master clutched his stomach with his hand that was free of any nasty stench, but was unable to suggest anything that might alleviate his pain.

“Master…”

As a few seconds passed, the young man realised he’d become accustomed to being called ‘Master’. The more he thought about it, the more it didn’t sit well with him.

“That reminds me…do you, like…” Kerry trailed off, knitting his eyebrows as he fumbled over what to say, “well…”

The fake Caster tilted her head inquisitively.

“Uhm…the real Caster has a name, but, er, what about you?”

“No…there was no need for any of us to have a name. We weren’t designed for prolonged human contact.”

“Oh. But that’s confusing. Having two Casters is doing my head in.”

A mix of confusion and apology crossed the Morph’s face, but Kerry ignored it as he spoke.

“What if I…named you?”

“I…you really should call me Caster, but…”

“But?”

“A name…the idea of having one is…”

Although slightly thrown off by how seriously this strange girl seemed to take this suggestion, Kerry racked his brain to think of all the girl names he could remember.

He didn’t think too hard about it, though. As he had learnt during the past week, the mind seldom works the way you wish it to when faced with overwhelming hunger. Kerry settled on the first name he thought of that wasn’t his mom’s, aunt’s, or anyone else in his family’s.

“How about…Stella?”

It was when the Morph slowly nodded that Kerry realised he was furiously blushing.

“No, wait- that was the name of my first crush, so, uhm…nevermind. I’ll think of something el-”

“I like it.”

Kerry fell into a stunned silence.

“It…distinguishes me from all the other Morphs. It’s like…individuality,” Stella said, betraying little to no emotion in her expression, “thank you, Master.”

“Oh,” Kerry intelligently responded, processing what the newly-named Morph had just said, “you- individuality?”

“Yes. Morphs are like homuniclus; we may be able to mimic human traits, but in the end…we are but simple tools to be used by our Master.”

“Y’mean me, or…?”

“Caster.”

Kerry thought on this for a moment, thinking through everything he’d learnt so far. He eventually arrived at a simple conclusion.

“But I’m his Master, right? So wouldn’t you all answer to me above him?”

Stella’s eyes drifted away from her Master.

“No…only I was created to answer to you. The others are…devoutly loyal to him. But you needn’t worry about them, Master. They wouldn’t turn on you, and if there is anything you need, I can assist…”

Kerry’s stomach unleashed a fierce growl, causing Stella to pause.

“…uhm, as best as I can, anyway,” she added.

* * *

“ _Six- no, seven of them. West of the hospital._ ”

Felicia’s words- carried to his mind through their link as Master and Servant- told Lancer what his priority was during his late afternoon drive through the city. Initially, she’d wanted him to investigate the site Assassin had called Caster’s workshop, but this inexplicable gathering of Morphs had concerned her more.

Thusly, they needed to be dealt with, and fast.

“Any other Servants in the vicinity?”

“ _Doesn’t look like it…which is probably why they chose the spot. Rider might be overhead, though. I really should have invested in aerial observation…_ ”

“It’s a clear day. I’ll be able to spot her if she does try to approach.”

The silence following was enough of a response; Felicia wasn’t the type to acknowledge good points from other people when she could help it.

In order to avoid drawing attention to himself, Lancer was obeying the road laws, traveling under the speed limit and not weaving precariously through traffic. Felicia reasoned that, by doing this, he’d run less risk of alerting his enemies to his presence before arriving.

The paladin had no problems with it; it gave himself time to steel himself for the inevitable battle ahead.

“ _By the way…_ ”

“Master?”

“ _I know I gave you shit for your stunt last night, but…what needs to be done, needs to be done. Remember, you need to be at Caster’s hideout tonight- the earlier, the better. So make sure you’re quick here._ ”

Lancer understood the meaning behind this; thanks to their eavesdropping at the hotel, they’d learnt that Assassin and Archer would be attacking Caster that night- and they’d learnt the true nature of the fake Casters littered around Nagilis.

“ _There’s eight of them, now. How long until you get there?_ ”

Two minutes after gently reminding Felicia that she was meant to be navigating him, Lancer pulled up at his destination, only a street away from Gate district’s hospital. There was little doubt in his mind that these fake Casters were after some easy targets; he’d have to act fast to prevent the situation spiralling out of control.

Eight golden-eyed figures emerged from the shadows, forming a semi-circle in front of the servant. The two at the front had swords in their hands; the rest appeared to be magic users.

“We got found. What do we do?”

“We have to protect this batch of Quintessence until master has dealt with the pests tonight.”

“Well, it’s only Lancer…let’s get rid of him, quick.”

“Capture him! He’ll make a nice source of mana for master…”

Lancer impassively listened to the exchange between the Morphs, before pointing his spear at them.

“Heed my warning, for I shall speak only once. Surrender now, or I shall strike you down,” he declared. The two sword wielders stepped forward, weapons raised, preparing to charge, while the others began readying their magic.

“…So be it,” Lancer muttered.

It was over before it started.

Springing off his bike, metres into the air, the servant uttered the name of his Noble Phantasm.

Within seconds, the eight were reduced to nothingness, leaving naught but a crater in Lancer’s wake.

* * *

Guardian awoke with a start.

The evening sun poked through the elaborate and beautiful windows of the church, but there was no need for the hooded girl to shield her eye.

She could feel a sense of dread and chaos from the night to come. The fragile status quo the war had been hanging onto would be upset…

…Perhaps the war was coming to an end?

No, that couldn’t be the case. None of the seven Servants had been defeated yet. For them to all fall in one night…

Guardian noiselessly rose to her feet, her face expressionless under her hood.

How she wished she could have slept more.

She didn’t so much as glance at Friedemann as she made her way towards the exit, leaving the building swiftly and silently.

“Fresh air…”

The church was located on the outskirts of the city, and the air was clean and pleasant in comparison to the bustling coastline. All that said, Guardian much preferred mountain breeze- she found it more soothing, and easier to relax.

After a moment of deliberation, the hooded girl had decided on her destination, and began her calm walk there.

It wasn’t where she desired to go, but perhaps the Emblem was guiding her judgement…

She wondered, for a fleeting moment, what lay in store for her that night.

* * *

Harold could feel only dread from where he stood, dumped by Archer at a ‘perfect vantage point’ for watching the battle to come. The wind chill from the altitude alone made him bitter beyond reason, and the distance from the ground made him wheezy, so it took all his concentration not to think about it.

Frankly, the mage had had enough of rooftops for his lifetime.

“I’m his Master. I even used a Command Seal. So who does he think he is, abandoning me up here like this?” Harold grumbled, slouching and rubbing his last remaining Command Seal, “what did I do to deserve such a rebellious Servant…?”

Caster’s hideout was low down, and quite far from his position, so he’d brought- or been forced to bring- a pair of enchanted glasses to help him watch the fight to come. He didn’t really want to see it, though; he just wanted to hear a good result afterwards, and maybe Archer admitting that working with others was a good idea, along with an apology for being such a-

“Oh…could you be…a Master?”

A voice jolted Harold out of his fantasies, causing him to wobble and fall backwards in surprise. He looked up to see a blue man with a mask.

“Y-you! You’re- er- Saber, right?” he gasped, after emitting a squeal.

“What are you doing up here? This area is dangerous to be in right now.”

“Ah- I…I’m keeping lookout. My Servant- see- erm- Archer, that is- is going to be…um…”

Before Harold could finish, Saber nodded in understanding, sparing the mage from his failing vocabulary.

“Now I see…certainly, some Masters would prefer to directly witness their Servants in action,” the swordsman said, “this makes us allies; I was just on my way to meet Archer and Assassin. But…it might be better to watch from a lower floor. You’ll have less chance of being spotted by our enemy.”

The Galloway mage numbly gaped at the Servant- who he’d only just met- expressing concern for him.

“Y-yes…of course. I should…hide better. Thank you, Saber.”

Saber smiled kindly, and after helping Harold to his feet, turned to leave.

“Think nothing of it, Master of Archer.”

“Galloway. My name is Harold Galloway,” the mage introduced himself hastily, offering his hand out. A moment passed, and Saber took the handshake, nodded, and left Harold alone on the rooftop.

“Why can’t my Servant be that friendly…?” he muttered, looking for an entrance into the building.

* * *

Assassin materialised in a crouched position behind a group of trees, only a few hundred metres from Caster’s workshop. His quiet gaze watched for enemy activity as he waited for the arrival of his allies.

The Servant could spot a few Morphs; one or two on the roof, a couple by the entrance, and at least one had walked inside of the parking lot since he’d started keeping track. But there weren’t…enough.

It was too lightly guarded. Which meant…

Some were hiding…or Caster had moved location.

He could still sense Caster inside, but knowing the sorcerer’s skill and trickery, that could just be a false flag to bait Assassin in.

Another Servant could be detected, closing in on his location; warily, he glanced back to confirm who it was. A man with turquoise hair formed before him, a displeased look on his face.

“Assassin, right?” Archer’s first words were laced with the displeasure that could be found in his expression.

“…Correct.”

Without warning, Archer raised his bow, aiming it directly at Assassin’s face at point blank range. The latter did not flinch, calmly meeting the former’s hard stare.

“Let me take this opportunity to make a few things clear,” Archer spat, “as soon as Caster is dead, we will be enemies. Don’t get comfy…and watch your back. Got it?”

A silent nod followed the warning.

“I must say, though…”

Archer lowered his bow as he continued speaking.

“You’ve got some backbone. My Master may have used a Command Seal to force me to cooperate with you, but you seem like a respectable fighter.”

Assassin cast his eyes back to Caster’s hideout without a reply.

“Caster’s holed up there, is he? I can’t stand cowards. What a joke of a Servant…”

“…They might have a trap ready. I can only see five standing guard,” Assassin said, but Archer shook his head and shrugged.

“Four on the roof, six by the entrance, five on the floors in-between- and that’s not including the three or more that are stationed behind the building.”

It was worthy of praise; had Jaffar been the kind to give it out, he would have applauded Archer’s ability to discern targets.

“I see. At least eighteen of them…” Assassin responded, “this much power already…we cannot afford to lose here.”

Although quiet, the Servant’s voice carried a heavy weight behind it; Archer wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

“We’ll attack at sundown. It’ll benefit my Noble Phantasm…”

“And reduce my visibility? Hmph. Barely a challenge, but that’s fine with me. I’ll finish Caster in no time, day or night.”

The two waited in silence as the sun inched towards the horizon, painting the sky a deep orange.

But little time passed before Archer spun around, bow ready, alert at the presence of another Heroic Spirit. He grit his teeth when he noticed Assassin had barely reacted to the appearance of a third party.

“Relax. It’s Saber. He’s helping also…” Assassin explained, as Saber made himself visible. Archer clicked his tongue, and petulantly slumped against a tree.

“Assassin…and Archer. Greetings to you both,” Saber said, but was cut off by Archer.

“I wasn’t told about this. What’s the meaning of this, Assassin? Got any more friends you haven’t mentioned? Did you invite the whole Fire Emblem war here?”

“I found Saber after I approached your Master,” Jaffar said, unperturbed by Archer’s outburst, “his Noble Phantasm is exactly what we need against Caster.”

“Is that so…”

“If trust is what you need…” Saber interjected, “then I’ll be upfront about it. My Noble Phantasm is Falchion. You may infer my identity from this, but I only want to stop Caster. I hope we can work together on this.”

Archer gave Saber a calculating look at the mention of Falchion, before casting his gaze back to Caster’s hideout.

“My Command Seal only bids me to work with Assassin. Watch yourself out there…if you’re not alert enough, you won’t stand a chance against Caster anyway…”

“Now that we’re all here…we need to lay out our plan of attack,” Assassin spoke up before Saber could respond to Archer’s threat.

“…Hmph. Fine. I have tactical experience. Allow me,” Archer said, “Assassin will utilise his stealth and approach the hideout under the cover of night. From there, he will eliminate as many enemies as possible until he’s spotted. They’ll notice quick enough, but it’ll cause confusion in their ranks- and using that, I will begin my attack. My target will be the foes on the building itself, while Saber will take the ones near the entrance. We’ll advance on Caster from there.”

Saber nodded in understanding, while Assassin showed his agreement by choosing not to say anything.

“The sun will set soon…may the light of Naga guide us,” Saber said, as the three awaited night to fall, feeling the tension rising with each passing second.

* * *

Having spent most of the past week with her, Kerry could easily notice when Stella was on edge about something- which meant his life was probably in danger. The Morph had led him away from people, and they were currently passing a graveyard in the Outer district, another ominous reminder of the concept of mortality Kerry had become so painfully familiar with during the war.

The young man shivered; not only was he hungry, he was cold, and now he had to worry about being attacked again.

“Master? You stopped walking. Is something the matter?” Stella’s golden eyes were curious, a probing stare earnestly searching her Master’s expression for any hint of what was ailing him. Kerry could only meet her gaze with a nervous laugh.

“I-it’s nothing…it’s just cold. That’s all…”

The Morph did not look convinced; although her facial expressions didn’t vary much, Kerry was learning to distinguish them to some degree of success.

“Caster is about to do battle with other Servants. For your own safety, you cannot be near this fight.”

“Right…I need to stay alive, for Caster’s sake…”

Kerry’s mouth twisted into a grimace.

“So long as Caster keeps fighting, I’ll be in danger. I…” Kerry looked away, and muttered, “I sorta wish you were my Servant…”

Stella did not respond. She was overcome with the urge to reach out to her Master, who seemed so fragile, trembling in the cold- or perhaps out of fear.

Her hand gently brushed against his-

His hand firmly clasped hers-

Kerry’s cheeks were flushed red, matching the sunset-stained red clouds above. He wanted to say something.

What was there to say?

Perhaps he was dreaming- or perhaps this, too, was magic.

“ _Ho! Pardon the interruption. Might this be the Master of Caster?_ ”

Because Kerry was so caught up in his own thoughts, the unexpected booming voice in his mind violently startled him, causing him to reel backwards, his hand releasing his protector’s.

“Wh- who- how?”

“ _Ho ho! Yes, I suppose you haven’t experienced telepathy before, have you?_ ”

“T…telepathy?” Kerry echoed, prompting Stella to look around for the responsible party.

“ _’tis but a specialty of mine. Indeed, communicating with others becomes far simpler when you don’t have to be in the same room!_ ”

“Uh…they have this thing called a phone, y’know…”

“… _Ho! I am gravely out of touch with such mystical technology. But that’s neither here nor there. Tell me, Master of Caster…_ ”

“Er- it’s Kerry. Kerry Denton.”

He was relieved there wasn’t anyone around- he felt more than peculiar talking to a disembodied voice. He noticed Stella was concentrating on him now; maybe she wasn’t hearing the voice?

“ _Marvellous. So, tell me, Kerry Denton; you are, as I observe, not a mage, correct?_ ”

“Uh…yeah…sorry, who are you?”

“ _Ho ho! Where are my manners? For the sake of protecting my sanctuary, I cannot disclose my full name, but you may call me Edward. I am the Master of Rider._ ”

“Rider’s Master…” Kerry breathed, earning a small gasp from Stella.

“ _Rider has had quite the time, eliminating those pesky false homunculi your servant has spread across the city. It took me a while to locate the genuine article, and find the link to his Master…how surprised I was to find someone of little-to-no ability such as yourself! Ho ho…_ ”

Kerry gulped at the thought of an unknown mage- with a Servant who had been killing Morphs- knowing exactly where he was.

“Geh…magic is scary…”

“ _I must ask…as a mage. Why do you, someone with barely any connection to magic, fight in a mage’s war?_ ”

Kerry had been asked almost exactly the same question the previous day, and he still didn’t have a solid answer for it.

“I…dunno. It just…happened. I didn’t know what was going on. Maybe this Emblem of yours made a mistake…”

“ _Ho ho! I see. The Fire Emblem has plans for you, even if you are yet to realise your innermost desires…_ ”

The voice went silent for a jarring moment, and Kerry vainly wondered if he was free yet.

“ _Perhaps you do not know this, but Caster is preparing to face off against Assassin, Archer, and Saber. Now, he still has a wide assortment of creations left to protect himself, but they pale in comparison to three Heroic Spirits._ ”

“I…oh boy. Is Caster gonna die?”

“ _Ho! Who can say? Those creations may not be able to fend off the attacking Servants, but they shall certainly slow them down. Caster has just as much of a chance as those three do of winning tonight. However…_ ”

“What…?”

“ _Another Servant may join the fray. One that could, potentially, make short work of Caster’s creations._ ”

“Y’mean…Rider?” Kerry groaned.

“ _Ho ho! She was itching to join in, but I have her on standby. No, Lancer is looking to fight Caster also- and, I’m afraid, should he do so, your Servant and his creations will be overwhelmed._ ”

The young man was unsure how to take the declaration of his inevitable loss, so he stood speechlessly, allowing Edward to continue speaking.

“ _So? Will you accept this defeat? Or…despite not having a wish, not having a will to fight, do you reject this outcome that has been presented to you?_ ”

Kerry’s silence continued; he glanced at Stella, who impassively surveyed the surroundings, and bit his lip.

“I don’t want to lose before I know what I’ve lost. If…that makes sense.”

“ _Ho ho! Well spoken. In that case, I have a proposition...two favours, I shall grant you. With this chance, I hope you will find what the Emblem desires of you. If you want my assistance…_ ”

“Yes. Please. Two things?” Kerry responded in a heartbeat.

“ _The first…will be preventing Lancer from reaching Caster’s location. I am sure you can work out what this entails. But this means that Caster, provided he makes the right moves, can win tonight._ ”

Caster’s Master nodded slowly.

“And, uh, the second thing?”

“ _Ho ho…oh, yes. Do watch out for the blonde woman on the street corner. I’m sure you can work out what she’s after._ ”

Kerry froze, turning to see Stella staring at a woman leaning against the graveyard gate, only a fifty metres down the road. Horror crossed his face as he caught the woman regarding him with one eye open.

This was undoubtedly an enemy.

An enemy, out to kill him.

With just a single look, a chilling, heartless stare, her killing intent was clear. Kerry felt his heart stop, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

As she pushed herself off the fence, standing upright, both eyes open...

As he trembled, rooted in place...

The sun fell below the horizon, covering the city in the dark of the night.


	8. Night Five

- _Night Five_ -

The weight of the tension made the single moment feel like an eternity. Gracia took a step towards her target; no small talk, no taunts left her lips as she raised her gun at Kerry, who stood paralysed with fear.

“Master. Get behind me,” Stella said quietly, radiating hostility towards the enemy Master. Kerry gulped and complied- but ceased moving when a bullet whizzed past his ear.

There was no gunshot sound. Had Kerry been paying attention, he would have noticed Gracia’s gun had a silencer.

Another gulp. He could feel himself trembling.

A calm, cool breeze swept past the standoff.

“Past this fence…” the Morph muttered, so only Kerry could hear, “find cover.”

The young man had no chance to nod. In the split second that followed, Stella conjured up a wall of ice to block the next bullet Gracia fired, and spun around, blasting the bars separating the graveyard from the street.

Kerry stumbled in- he couldn’t quite manage to run in his state of shock- and the Morph followed, sealing the makeshift entrance with a slab of solid ice. Stella barely had time to register Kerry diving for cover behind a large tombstone before the ice started cracking, prompting her to prepare her offensive strategy.

She had really hoped the barriers would slow the attacker down more.

Crouched, hand pressed against the earth, surrounded by jagged chunks of ice, the Morph focused to catch even a glimpse of the enemy to catch her by surprise.

Unfortunately, she did not know her enemy well.

Gracia Alcott was a nimble fighter; as soon as the barrier had fallen, she dashed in, sidestepping, ducking beneath, and rolling past the initial barrage of ice.

With no regard for her own safety, Stella drew in closer, hurling larger projectiles and forming huge spears of ice from the ground. The assassin ducked the spears, and stretched out her hand toward the shards of ice.

Sparks flew from her hand, shattering the ice.

“Electricity? A lightning mage…”

Stella’s moment of observation was costly; her hand was punctured by a bullet before she could find cover. Morphs only felt a fraction of the pain humans did- as a result, she merely winced, and outstretched the same hand to the sky.

The attacker was fast. This called for the same strategy she’d successfully used against Assassin.

Stella’s jet black hair whipped up as the night’s calm, cool breeze became a harsh, frosty wind, blanketing the graveyard with hail. The turbulent, gale-force winds, carrying heavy blocks of ice, careered towards Gracia, who-

Wasn’t there.

“Huh…? Where-” Stella said, her face blank with confusion. She frantically glanced around, looking for the woman, who had been standing in front of her, at a distance, not a moment ago.

The mystery ended when a bullet pierced her shoulder from behind, causing her to stumble over; by the time she’d turned around, Gracia had found cover among the graves.

An unfamiliar restless feeling rose through Stella’s chest- perhaps it was frustration, or anxiety. Her plan had backfired; for some reason, this woman had a resistance- or familiarity- with freezing climates. Maybe that was her element as a mage, and the lightning had been a false flag?

In either case, Kerry was in danger. And unlike Gracia, his mobility would not hold up in the current conditions.

The Morph sprinted towards his position, desperately hoping she wasn’t too late. Her mind filled itself with possible methods of escape, ways to protect Kerry while also fending off the attacker-

A sneeze broke her train of thought.

A gunshot filled her mind with a worst-case scenario.

A scream of pain confirmed her fears.

Huddled against a tombstone, Kerry clutched his leg with an agonised moan. Gracia was stood several feet away, her gun raised, with no expression on her face.

“This wind is screwing with my aim…” she grumbled. The next shot missed, and she sighed, moving closer to her target. Kerry could barely see her past the unnatural hail- he could barely keep his eyes open as he winced in pain.

Witnessing this, Stella’s reasoning broke down.

“Kerry…”

Her eyes widened as she clenched her teeth.

Pillars of ice erupted from all over the ground around her, ripping apart graves and memorials, as she let out a yell, laced with emotion she never knew she had. The sheer intensity of the assault forced Gracia backwards; it became apparent to the assassin that she’d be skewered if she stuck around for too long.

With one last glance at the frenzy- which, Gracia noted, Caster’s Master was in the midst of, and would be lucky to survive- the woman made her exit. A wounded Master wasn’t such a bad result, and Kerry’s death wasn’t vital to killing Caster that night.

As she left, her thoughts drifted to the Master’s Morph protector. It was strange, but…

That fury-driven barrage at the end…

It bothered her, more than anything else could.

* * *

The moment the sun fell below the horizon, Assassin made his move. Unseen, he moved towards the closest sentry, ending the Morph’s life in a heartbeat; before the body even hit the ground, Jaffar had already begun his assault on his next target. The Morphs’ comparative lack of sense of pain worked in his favour- they didn’t even scream as they were slashed into pieces.

It was after the third was down that the other sentries began to notice something was amiss.

Several Morphs on the upper levels of the building began blindly throwing magic to the ground, collectively carpeting the area with all the elements in an attempt to smoke out the intruder.

The effort was fruitless, as Assassin had already hidden himself, his initial job done; as soon as the Morphs ceased their attack, one was met with an arrow to the chest and head, causing it to slump off the building.

“Protect the entrance!” one of the fourteen remaining Morphs yelled in an effort to quell any confusion, “bombard the area the ranged assault originated from!”

Three Morphs, armed with various silver weaponry, leapt in front of the entrance, their gold eyes darting around their surroundings as other Morphs began hurling powerful magic in the direction the arrows had come from.

That was when Saber made his move, darting forward at full speed, Falchion leaving a trail of light as he lunged at a Morph, cleanly cleaving it in two. In the same fluid motion, he parried a swipe from the second Morph, beheading it, and leapt over the third Morph’s attack, plunging his holy blade through Caster’s creation.

Eleven remained; all attacking from a distance, their focus switching to their new, clearly defined target, whose sword covered the premises with its cleansing light. But none of them were fast enough to land a blow; Assassin had already snuck onto the building’s upper floors, fatally wounding another Morph.

The entrance- dark and forbidding- was open.

With resolution in his step, Saber entered the maw of Caster’s hideout, guided by the light of his sword.

His movement halted quickly, as confusion crossed his face; as he spun around, an arrow embedded itself into his shoulder, sending him staggering backwards.

“Ggk-” Saber winced in pain, leaning against a wall and tearing the arrow out.

Archer had…shot him?

Accidentally?

Was Archer really such a careless shot?

…No, that wasn’t it. He’d warned him of this before the battle- yet Saber had chosen to trust him, despite the threat.

A self-defeating smile crossed his face. He raised his sword upwards, bathing in the cleansing light, descending further into the underground parking lot. There was no time to delay, no time to berate himself; Caster had to be stopped as soon as possible.

With the stinging wound closed and healed, Saber was ready for the battle ahead.

* * *

At full throttle, Lancer’s mount reached twice the velocity of any vehicle he passed on this motorway. His blonde hair was swept by the intense wind, but his gaze forward was unflinching, as he rushed to join the fight against Caster.

“ _It’s started. All the surveillance devices I had set up in the area were caught up in the mess within five minutes, so I can’t tell you what’s going on._ ”

“…That’s fine. How long until I reach the battleground?”

“ _Uhh…at this speed…on that road…if you take the next junction…fifteen, maybe twenty minutes?_ ” Felicia responded, “ _just try not to crash into anything. That’ll slow you down more than hitting the breaks._ ”

“Duly noted. Thought not all of us are quite as…unruly…on the roads as you are, Master.”

“ _…Hey. I’ll hit you, later_.”

“I wouldn’t advise that. You’ll end up doing more damage to yourself than to me.”

“ _Yeah, yeah, mister B rank endurance. You’re so very impressive._ ”

“I’m glad to hear you think that. It would be a shame if your Servant didn’t live up to your expectations.”

“ _Tch. Go kick Caster’s ass. Then I’ll think about giving you a real compliment._ ”

“I’m beside myself with anticipation,” Lancer quipped dryly, but stopped himself before he could continue; his mouth tightened, and he eased on the breaks, slowing his speeding bike to a halt.

“ _Lancer? What’s wrong?_ ”

“…Sorry. Looks like reaching Caster won’t be as simple as we hoped.”

Before him on the empty road stood Rider, armed with her axe, and her typical harsh gaze. Her wyvern was not in sight, but she seemed fully prepared for combat.

“Rider. I’m afraid you’ve chosen a bad time to pick a fight…”

“Let’s cut to the chase, Lancer,” Minerva said, taking slow steps forward, “I’m here to buy time. I don’t know what my Master is planning, but under his command, I’ll be stopping you here.”

“…A pity.”

The red haired woman paused, sizing up the other Servant, her eyes fixing on the mighty spear in his hand.

“I won’t be unreasonable about this, though. I’m familiar enough with you to know you value a code of honour…so we’ll make this a duel.”

Lancer’s expression did not change, but his response wasn’t immediate.

“The terms?”

“You continue advancing towards your destination. I will try and stop you,” Rider said, hoisting up Hauteclere and pointing it at her foe, “you win if you make it there, or if you defeat me. I win if I dismount you, or defeat you.”

The paladin briefly considered the proposition, knowing the alternative was an exchange that wouldn’t last a minute. A clash of Noble Phantasms, with the most likely outcome leading to both their deaths.

“Here. Perhaps you need a reminder of what my Noble Phantasm is capable of,” Minerva said, firmly gripping the axe, which began to give off an unearthly shine.

“ _Hauteclere!_ ” she roared, twisting in place, taking tremendous swing at the air behind her.

Two hundred metres away from the legendary axe’s wielder, an almighty explosion engulfed the road, violently ripping it asunder. Debris and rubble scattered and rained around the two servants as Rider turned back to face Lancer.

One would mistake Hauteclere for just an Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm from that display, but Lancer knew to be warier of its passive ability. He concluded it would be prudent to take the chance offered to him.

“I accept your terms,” Lancer stated, noting that he’d have to turn around and take a longer route now. Rider nodded, and snapped her fingers, summoning her wyvern, while Lancer revved his bike into gear. Its wheels screeched as he sharply turned in place, kicking up a cloud of dust in his wake.

“…No objections, Master?” Rider murmured, her short hair fluttering from the force of her wyvern landing in front of her.

“ _Hm? I have utmost faith in your abilities, Rider, even if you are softer than you let on._ ”

“I see.”

“ _It’s an acceptable compromise, especially with how unreasonable it is of me to make you do this. Though I do wish you’d consulted me first._ ”

Now mounted, Rider spurred her ride upwards, catching sight of her target from the air.

“…I have a habit of doing my own thing. Marth- and his shadow- were the only tacticians worth a damn in my experience, and I’m afraid you don’t compare,” Minerva said, “I’m too proud to be used as a mere tool…”

“ _Ho…_ ”

“Lancer is…the opposite. He desires to be used, as though that’s his purpose as a knight. To serve whatever life presents to him as a master.”

“ _And that doesn’t sit well with you, does it?_ ”

“…He’s at odds with himself. That’s all,” Rider said, her wyvern diving at full speed directly at Lancer.

“ _Ho ho! I wonder what a Servant such as himself expects to gain from a war such as this…what wish would motivate such a man?_ ”

Rider chose not to respond; her focus was fixed entirely on the duel ahead.

* * *

Adelina gawked at the apartment door, mirroring the expression of the man who had stumbled in haphazardly. The two did not exchange words as they froze in place, eyes locked, thought processes grinding to a halt.

The girl’s eyebrow began twitching; unexpected situations like this used to terrify her, but all she could feel at that instance was pure exhaustion.

The bespectacled man, slightly on the portly side, broke out into a cold sweat; he was hoping that the unlocked apartment meant that it was unoccupied, but luck hadn’t been on his side for the past week or so.

Adelina considered calling her Servant. She’d asked to be positioned somewhere close enough so that, in the event she was attacked, Assassin could return to the battle swiftly after protecting her. The apartment block close by had been the logical choice, and yet…

“Uh, ahaha, s-sorry,” the intruder mumbled, wiping sweat off his brow. The girl slowly found herself pointing at the back of his hand.

“Command Seals. Are you Archer’s Master?”

There was a stagnant pause.

“Y-yes…?” Harold responded in bewilderment. Words were failing him, and he was desperately losing track of what was happening.

“Ah…I’m glad you agreed to lend your support. This battle is…really, really important to Assassin.”

With some of the tension relieved, Adelina slumped down onto a sofa, while Harold stood awkwardly near the entrance.

“Important?”

“…He knows Caster. From his life,” the girl explained, “and I simply abhor everything about Caster. To steal lives in such a way…”

Her voice faltered as memories of her near death experiences only a few days ago resurfaced. The thought of so many being unable to escape from the fate she’d come so close to horrified her beyond her worst nightmares.

Harold, lacking tact, could only nod, and mutter, “I see…”

Under the weight of the following silence, he continued.

“It, er, works out well for me- the alliance, I mean. Not Caster. I’ve been…looking to work with others, you see, but my Servant wasn’t too enthusiastic, so I’ve had a few problems, but since this has happened, maybe, ah…”

Adelina cocked her head in interest.

“You like working with others? This war can only have one winner…hm…what’s your wish?”

“Well, if I’m honest…it’s nothing important, really. But if I don’t win, my family won’t be very happy…”

At that moment, Adelina had a revelation.

She wasn’t the only Master in this war without a wish. Not even a petty wish, like her uncle had claimed of the participants of this war.

Knowing this, she smiled to herself.

“No wish…just like me…hey, what’s your name?”

“Harold…Galloway. You?”

“Adelina Scheuer. My uncle is this war’s overseer…and he also wants me dead.”

Harold’s eyes widened as he heard this.

“He- what?!”

“I’ve been on the run this whole time…and I don’t even have a wish of my own. I just want to stop my uncle from obtaining the Emblem himself.”

“…In that case, why don’t we cooperate? After this, I mean. We both have a better chance of making it to the end if we work together…”

It was an inviting prospect for Adelina; though she wasn’t completely sure she could trust this man, she was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. It would certainly prove safer to have one less enemy, in any case.

“Uhm, I’ll talk to Assassin about it, once Caster has been defeated. But personally…it’d reassure me to have more than one ally.”

“Y-yes!” Harold nodded feverishly, finally feeling as though something was going his way for the first time in this war, “come find me in my hotel tomorrow, and we can discuss our plan there. It’s the Grand Akaneia Hotel, room 952…oh, but, I suppose Assassin knows that already.”

“Grand Akaneia Hotel…room 952…okay. I’ll- what’s wrong?”

The mage’s face turned white as his gaze shifted to the window.

“I…was meant to be watching…the battle. Oh no…I hope Archer doesn’t get mad at me…” he stumbled towards the window, adjusting his glasses.

The girl could only watch Harold’s strange display blankly, unable to fathom his shift in composure.

* * *

Lancer- or rather, Lancer’s motorbike- had an incredible top speed.

But with Rider’s Tantivy skill giving her a speed boost in open air, her wyvern was faster, easily shooting ahead of the paladin. A quick swing of her axe cracked the road in front of Lancer, who skidded around it, twirling his spear to block the rubble pelting at him.

The paladin knew he was at a huge disadvantage, fighting a faster, aerial mount, who wielded an axe, holding an advantage over his spear. Not only that, but Hauteclere was designed to combat Noble Phantasms such as his own.

But he didn’t lose his cool, nor did he get frustrated with the situation. While Minerva, the famed Red Dragoon, was certainly a potent adversary, she was not devoid of weaknesses.

Rider’s next attack was a direct assault on Lancer, and their weapons clashed, signifying the real start of the battle. Lancer’s mighty spear began to grow heavy in his hand; its divine properties sealed by Hauteclere’s Anti-Divine passive ability.

He wouldn’t be able to activate his Noble Phantasm in this state, until the effect wore off- but there was no chance he’d be able to aim it at his extraordinarily swift target anyway, so that wasn’t the problem here.

Mustering all his strength to move his now-heavier weapon, Lancer blocked repeated strikes from the dragonknight, the force of each causing his bike to swerve. It was a testament to his skill at riding that he was able to keep his bike under control despite the overwhelming barrage.

The paladin took to the offensive, thrusting his spear at the red warrior, but his attack was smoothly dodged as Minerva flew above him. Even the force of the wyvern’s beating wings created winds strong enough to blow any lesser rider off course.

“As impressive as ever, Lancer!”

Minerva’s words were followed by a renewed barrage of blows; shifting all her weight behind the last of the flurry, the paladin’s spear was batted aside.

“Grk-!”

His sharp break was too late; Hauteclere found a clean hit, slicing through the side of his abdomen.

Clenching his teeth in pain, Lancer accelerated forwards, continuing on with only a pained expression despite the colossal wound.

“Battle Continuation…” Minerva grunted. Her wyvern sped forward to give chase, and she raised her axe, preparing to attack once again. Lancer clicked his tongue, readying his spear once more.

His defensive manoeuvre was fruitless; Rider’s axe lodged itself deeply into the paladin’s thigh, earning another agonised gasp from him. Despite this, Lancer lunged with all the momentum he could muster, managing to scrape Rider’s arm.

It was a light hit, but it was enough for biker.

She hadn’t dodged in time.

Rider’s speed had dropped.

Her Early Initiative skill- boosting her combat parameters at the start of a battle- was losing effect.

Minerva was the type to finish her battles quickly; she wasn’t suited for long, drawn out clashes. But that couldn’t mean Lancer could afford to get complacent. He’d taken heavy hits, and Medon’s Red Dragoon was still a potent enemy.

The world around the paladin was a blur. The combatants were racing forwards at lightning speed, and Lancer had lost track of his location. At this rate, would he even have enough strength to fight Caster?

Minreva unleashed Hauteclere’s power, spreading a series of explosions across the road ahead. Lancer was forced to decelerate, sharply turning and weaving around enormous craters and holes in the highway- leaving him wide open for another assault.

No attack came.

Simultaneously, both servants felt a paralyzing sensation crawl up them, and their attention was drawn the source of the mana spike.

“Just like the forest…” Rider muttered, rising further into the air, while Lancer slowed his bike down. Eventually, the culprit came into view.

It was beautiful.

Pure white scales adorned the one eyed dragon’s magnificent form, a cloud of mist rising from its mouth as it proudly stood before the two Heroic Spirits. Its claws raked through the concrete beneath it, beckoning either of the two to approach.

“Lancer!” Minerva called out, watching her opponent draw to a halt.

“…Right. How long until the seal on my Noble Phantasm is lifted?”

“Pour your mana into it. I’ll distract it until then!”

The wyvern zipped towards the mighty dragon, Minerva glaring at her new foe mercilessly.

“I accept your challenge, divine beast!” she roared, bringing her axe down its neck.

All she was met with was air, however. The dragon had ducked, without her even noticing. Rider’s mount was forced to swoop to the side to evade the misty fireball the dragon countered with, and Minerva lashed out with Hauteclere.

But she hit nothing. The creature warily regarded the axe, leaning back to avoid the blow, leaving Rider open for just a second. She was unable to defend herself against the dragon’s tail, sending her and her wyvern crashing to the road with a huge impact.

The creature let out a roar, its focus switching to Lancer, who kicked his bike into gear. His spear wasn’t ready, and he couldn’t afford to take a direct hit from such a powerful monster.

Lancer let out a deep breath, and circled around, keeping out of the dragon’s claw range, and veering around the columns of misty breath.

“Do I look done to you, dastard?!” a voice bellowed from behind Lancer, followed by a massive explosion next to the dragon’s head. Minerva snarled, with fury matching the dragon’s, and staggered forwards, readying her Noble Phantasm for another strike.

At the same time, misty fire swirled around the beast’s jaw; Rider fiercely swung her axe, throwing another blast at the dragon, knocking its head back. In response, the ball of flames was sent her way, engulfing the proud warrior princess in divine flames.

“Gaaa- AAUUUHG-!”

Minerva fell to her knees, wincing and breathing heavily, her legendary axe falling out of her hands with a dull, unceremonious thud.

The dragon- noticeably pained from the direct hit it’d taken- turned back to Lancer, whose mouth tightened as he once again drew to a stop.

His spear began to glow, a coat of golden aura covering it as its true power returned. The Heroic Spirit raised it over his head, readying his aim.

“Spear of the divine, almighty regalia…heed my call. Obliterate all that stands in my wake…”

The dragon let out a cry, but Lancer stood his ground, unflinching.

Then, he spoke the true name of his Noble Phantasm.

“ _Gradivus_!”

The divine spear was hurled at incomparable speed, embedding itself into the dragon in less than a second. The dragon shrieked in pain, stumbling backwards, as the spear faded and reformed in its wielder’s hand.

It wasn’t enough to finish such a divine creature of its nature, but it was enough to hold it off so that Lancer could drive past. At this rate, he’d barely be able to muster up the mana needed to activate Gradivus again when facing Caster.

Unfortunately, the dragon had other plans, blindly lashing out and swiping Lancer clean off his ride, sending him headfirst into the road. His visor began to crack, and blood coated the side of his face implanted in the concrete. Gritting his teeth, he dragged himself up, using his spear to support his weight.

It was a wasted effort.

The paladin knew this.

Through his cracked visor, he looked into the eye of the divine dragon.

He’d lost.

Lancer accepted his defeat.

Beaten, bloody, floored…it brought back the darkest memories of his life.

“…Sorry, Master.”

The dragon brought its shining, sharp claw down at Lancer, whose cape was grabbed and yanked, pulling the Servant into the air.

Rider’s wyvern, its burnt master half-conscious on its back, held Lancer in its claws as it flew away from the highway with the last of its strength.

“Looks like…I won the duel…Sirius,” Minerva rasped, a small smile forming on her scarred face.

The enigmatic paladin offered no thanks, nor any sign of responding to his true name. Minerva knew to expect this, and didn’t attempt to press any more conversation out of him.

The dragon calmly watched them leave, sitting quietly in the highway’s ruins.

* * *

Slow footsteps echoed in the empty, dark hideout. It wasn’t just devoid of light; it felt as though an inky blackness was dripping from the ceiling and walls, forming a vast lake of dark magic on the floor.

Saber, fingertips on his chest, took a calming breath, and raised his sword up high. He felt a small tingle in his arm as Falchion gained form; its holy light filled the void with a pure shine, revealing the cloaked figure of Caster at the end of the parking lot, with his back to the swordsman.

“Infernal fang of Naga…”

“I’ve come to put an end to your machinations, Caster,” Saber declared, holding his sword levelly towards the dark mage.

“So, it’s you who confronts me, Saber…” Nergal said, turning and clutching his turban, “heh heh…to be granted an audience with the Hero-King himself! Truly, I am honoured. Now, Marth…the darkness awaits.”

The blue haired man took a step forward, forming ripples in the void below.

“…For the hundreds you’ve killed…for all the innocent lives you’ve threatened…in the name of the people, I will strike you down here, Caster!”

Abruptly, Nergal tore off his turban, and blobs of dark magic pelted at Saber from all directions; in a clean arc, all met Falchion’s purifying light, the magic dissipating harmlessly on contact. The second wave was hot on the heels of the first, with larger projectiles converging on Saber.

Thrusting his sword forward, the swordsman annihilated the closest attack, following his blade through the opening and spinning to cut through the others. With a noble grace befitting the Hero-King of legend, Saber smoothly blocked each and every magical blast, the darkness beneath rippling beneath each light step.

It wasn’t a matter of speed, or power.

Falchion eradicated all dark magic that threatened its wielder. Saber was untouchable, with the room bathing in so much light, there was no way he could miss an attack.

But a frown rose to his face.

His arm was still tingling, and it felt like his mana reserves were draining faster than normal. Was this Nergal’s Noble Phantasm, Aether Harvest? Saber knew admittedly little about it, other than how it allowed Caster to drain the Quintessence of life around him.

“What’s wrong, Saber? Tired already? Haha…why don’t we cut a deal?” Caster taunted. The darkness kept coming, and the swordsman continued to put up his guard.

“Surrender your Quintessence. Sacrifice yourself…and I shall spare the people of this island. That’s fair, wouldn’t you say?”

“Fair? And how is that so?”

“Do you, perhaps, place your life above the innocents you claim to fight for? You are a mere Servant! Your life ended thousands of years ago- would you put your wish above the lives of others?”

Saber bent backwards to evade a speeding pebble-sized attack, and introduced it to the blade of light before it could circle around. Involuntarily, he clutched his arm, and panted lightly.

“I will not rise to your provocation, Caster. You expect me to lay down my sword, and take you for your word?” he responded, “I will not surrender! I will not allow your obsession with power to engulf this world in chaos once again!”

The pool of darkness erupted around Saber’s feet as he launched himself forward at full speed, Falchion piercing through Nergal in a single motion.

“Ah- aaahhh- guh…”

The swordsman withdrew his divine weapon from the sorcerer, who keeled over, clutching his chest and yelling in pain. The pool of darkness engulfed the Dark Druid’s body, swallowing him into the void.

From behind his mask, Saber surveyed his surroundings with a frown.

“Heh…heh…hahaha! Truly, I cannot show myself before you, Marth. That wretched blade of yours is my only obstacle in this war- no, in my plans to obtain the Fire Emblem!”

“I see…that was a Morph, then. Such cunning…”

There was a rumble. Ripples turned into waves of darkness, turbulently swirling around Saber’s feet, shooting various darts of magic randomly.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice your reactionary fighting style, Marth. The mask may cover your face, but your true secrets lie within- with my Millennia of Wisdom, I can perceive such combat techniques. Heh…perhaps this is the only way to break you…”

It was an attempt to keep him still.

To restrict his movement, then swamp him with the full might of Ereshkigal.

“…Caster. No…Nergal,” Saber said, “this evil…this chaos in your heart must be maddening. Please…let me show you the light.”

Small pellets of magic knicked and scraped him all over, but the swordsman proudly held his sword aloft, any wounds he received healing under the holy light. Then, flipping Falchion, he stabbed into the void below.

Time seemed to freeze.

All movement ceased.

The darkness hardened…and shattered.

Only Caster and Saber filled the empty lot, illuminated by the warm light of the Falchion. Nergal regarded his nemesis with loathing, while the swordsman took heavy breaths, feeling at his limit already.

With an outstretched hand, Caster fired a volley of magic, which was swatted away with a swing of Falchion as Saber took gradual steps forward, his feet dragging more and more as he progressed.

The sorcerer was also at his limit; the amount of power he’d used to create a Morph of himself, as well as strengthen his territory into a sea of darkness, had burned through most of his stored reserves.

Their battle had become a war of attrition.

Saber couldn’t muster the energy for a quick finish, like he’d done with the Morph.

Caster had nowhere to go. His back was against the wall, and in moments, Naga’s fang would make short work of him.

Unless…

“…I truly am fortunate. The curse afflicting you has been of great use. Haha…I bet you never realised. No matter,” Nergal said, his mouth twisting into a cruel grin. He closed his good eye, and used his absolute last resort.

“ _Boy_ _!_ _Utilise a Command Seal, and bring me to your position!_ ”

Saber raised his sword, and staggered forward. With a yell, he threw the last of his energy into striking the Dark Druid.

But he was gone, and the Servant fell to the ground, using Falchion to keep himself from falling on his face.

“Damn it…I was so close…”

Frustration welled up inside him, as he turned to sit against the wall, leaning back, the strain taking its toll.

Caster had mentioned a curse…but what sort of curse could leave him in this state?

Moments- or maybe minutes- passed, and a new step of footsteps filled the parking lot. Cold, red eyes came into view.

“…I failed.”

Saber hung his head in shame as he admitted the fact.

“I see.”

Jaffar turned, and walked away. He did not waste a single thought on finishing Saber; instead, he paused before he left the swordsman’s view.

“…You weakened him greatly. The Morphs have been dispatched. I’ll take it from here…”

Saber was left alone; he put away his sword, which was the only relief he could grant himself. The pain seemed to lessen without it, so it seemed the curse only applied when he was wielding his Noble Phantasm.

Knowing that there was little point waiting around, Saber faded from sight, and the parking lot was left completely empty.


	9. Day Six

- _Day Six_ -

Dawn broke.

The night was over.

Kerry hadn’t slept a wink.

Shaken, traumatised, and in a great deal of pain, the young man could only curse his existence. Cursing that moment he’d accidentally become a part of this war, in a drunken stupor- perhaps it was time to give up alcohol, forever.

Regretting past actions wasn’t going to help him now, but it was an incredibly appealing alternative to worrying about what would happen next.

His leg was numb; Stella had used her magic to ease the pain, but the bullet was still in his leg, and he couldn’t walk like this. Despite her frail figure, the Morph had carried him away with ease- in a less than dignified state- and they were now resting at an empty school.

Although it was where Kerry went to high school, the nostalgia didn’t seem to register. He’d never really liked attending it, anyway. No real friends, no real interest in learning, no real achievements to speak of; his parents had barely been able to hide their disappointment from start to finish.

“Ah…that’s right…” Kerry mumbled, the memories flowing to the forefront of his mind, “I’ve always been underwhelming…”

His inferiority complex had been a part of him for longer than he could remember, whether it was from his high-achieving, successful older brother, to his numerous peers who would consistently outperform him at every turn. Why bother, when he’d never reach any worthwhile level?

Why bother, when nobody would care even if he did?

In fact, since his brother had run out of patience, the only person who cared about him now was his niece- a small, naïve child, who’d eventually learn to dislike him in a few years.

As his gaze wearily swept the classroom, he cautiously added Stella to his small mental list.

The Morph in question had her gaze fixed outside, on guard for any intruders that might approach the school.

The other occupant of the room…

“This is a critical setback. I need to regain my power…” Caster said, “I’ll use this establishment as a temporary base. There should be ample amount of Quintessence arriving here later today. In your condition, you are to remain here, under my watch.”

Kerry did not respond, nor care. He couldn’t muster up the energy to feel anything other than apathy.

Over a hundred kids, teens, and adults were about to die…but why should he care?

It wasn’t even worth getting frustrated.

The only solace he could find was the fact that he was still alive- barely- but that was subject to change at any time. That blonde woman had been so close to killing him…

She had a _gun_. That alone had driven the experience home more than anything else he’d come across in the past week. The magic, the battles out of a storybook, the promise of any wish being fulfilled- for Kerry, who had largely gone without believing in the supernatural his whole life, it hadn’t sunk in yet. But that woman…

The young man had been resisting the urge to throw up for hours. Despite Stella calming the pain, he still occasionally made the mistake of looking at his leg. Not only was it not pretty, but because it was numb, it didn’t even feel like his. Effectively, it was like staring at somebody else’s bullet wounded leg.

It was horrible. The colour of the dried blood, the unnatural hole-

A few moments passed before Kerry realised he was making retching noises.

“Caster…can’t you fix this?”

The Servant barely looked at his Master as he replied.

“No. I could create a Morph capable of using healing staves, but I currently lack the power for that.”

Kerry let out a demoralised groan, and looked back over to Stella.

The Morph stole a glance at him before returning her attention to the window.

“…Hey, Caster. What is this all worth?” Kerry found himself saying, “why go through all this? What’s the goal? Why bother?”

“And what is it to you? You are merely my anchor to this world…as of this time. Provided you survive, you will earn a wish…what else could you possibly need to know?”

Kerry stared at his Servant balefully.

“I almost fucking died. I want answers,” he spat, stretching out his arm, displaying his two remaining Command Seals, “I’m glad you reminded me of these. Now tell me what you’re after.”

A red flash filled the room, enveloping Nergal, who sneered at his Master.

“Idiot brat…you’d really- gah! Fine. The Fire Emblem is a source of unlimited power- power which I desire for myself. With it, I shall be incarnated, and the world will fall beneath my unrivalled magic!”

…It was no good. Kerry couldn’t bring himself to care- or even understand what Caster was saying.

His mouth tightened.

“…I don’t get it. I don’t _want_ to get it. Maybe I should have paid attention during history class more- or maybe I should have found something in my life that I could give my all in. Maybe then, I’d understand what the fuck you’re talking about. But no…it doesn’t sound real, and you sound absolutely fucking mental, so I just don’t care. I don’t want a part of this. I’m just gonna…leave. With Stella.”

The classroom fell silent.

“Heh…hehehahaha…” Nergal chuckled, placing a hand on a desk to support himself as he burst out into loud laughter, “then I have no use for you! I shall take your Quintessence, and find a new Master. You will die here, boy!”

Caster had barely begun to form magic in the palm of his hand before Stella dashed between the two.

“Ah…” the Dark Druid said, “you will no longer need to protect this individual. Now move aside…”

The Morph did not comply, her gold eyes unflinchingly glaring at her creator.

“You…I see. Emotions, hm? You truly are a failure, in both ability and construct…”

“I’m…defective?”

“Indeed. To think I based you off my perfect creation! How worthless you turned out to be.”

Stella closed her eyes, a calm smile on her face.

“…Good. I would rather be able to feel what I do…than have nothing other than your idea of ‘perfection’.”

A spear of ice instantly shot through Caster, blowing him back through a dozen tables with a crash. Another six followed, impaling the Servant- still weakened from the night before- all over.

“GAHHH- HOW _DARE_ YOU…!”

Kerry blankly watched as many more icicles tore through his Servant. Once the Morph was satisfied the deed was done, her relentless assault ceased.

“You…f-fools…” Caster rasped, in a bloody mess on the floor, “heh…you think you…will have a happy ending…?”

Kerry felt his heart stop momentarily.

“Morphs…my creations…will only last a maximum of two weeks…in other words…your precious friend...has less than a week of her worthless life remaining! Hehehahaha-”

The rest of Caster’s maniacal laughter was cut off by Stella’s final blow, creating a deafening silence in the school.

* * *

“… _Police are currently investigating the large scale damage on the Nagilis Highway last night, which has been closed for safety until the cause is determined. If you are travelling today, please be aware that_ …”

Felicia watched the morning news with bleary eyes, the reporter’s droning speech doing nothing to arouse her from her half-awake state. She’d had a rough night when her plans had gone haywire and Rider had attacked her Servant. The worst part had been, for sure, the series of phone calls she had to make following the disaster, in order to have her bike recovered before the police found it and potentially linked her to the scene.

It hadn’t been damaged too badly- she could probably fix it before Lancer healed.

“Oi, Lancer. You alive?” the woman mumbled, peeling herself off her chair, pressing her hand against her face. Waking up with a headache hadn’t been on the agenda, but life appeared to be working against her.

“ _Certainly. Though I’d rather not manifest until I’ve regained more of my strength. I can recover faster this way,_ ” Lancer’s voice echoed in his Master’s mind.

“Mm…” Felicia gave her empty mug a judgemental scowl, “and how long will that take you?”

“ _Fortunately, Gradivus accelerates my healing somewhat…so, by tonight I should be combat ready._ ”

“Greeeaaat…” a yawn escaped the mage, who fell back into her seat haphazardly, “and Rider worked out who you are?”

“ _…Yes. We were comrades in the War of Heroes, so she was able to identify me at first glance…I underestimated her memory. Despite how much I attempted to distance myself from those I fought with in that war, it seems I left enough of a lasting impression on her to be identified now._ ”

“Ah…that’s annoying…I guess Knight of Obscurity won’t have any effect on her?”

“ _That skill only removes visual memory from those who see me, I’m afraid. Rider will still remember identifying me._ ”

Knight of Obscurity; a skill attributed to Sirius, a paladin of unknown origin. At B rank, no visual memories of him will remain in a witness’ mind after an encounter. An effective countermeasure for protecting his identity, but it was of little use should he be recognised at first glance.

“Fine…whatever. She’s a horrible match for you, anyway. The only way you’re gonna beat her is by dismounting her. She won’t last in a drawn out battle after that.”

“ _Of course._ ”

Lancer’s response was simple- he didn’t need to point out that such a task would be a momentous feat, since Felicia already knew this, and Sirius was by no means a man who made excuses for himself.

“Ugh…I dunno what happened with Caster. And half my drones are down. This stinks…” the Clementine mage moaned, “not to mention the fuckin’ mess from last night- the media was already having a field day with the mass disappearances, and now this. At least you’re okay, I guess…”

She paused, the words exiting her mouth before she had a chance to think the statement through. Her eyes slowly closed, a small tinge of red rising to her cheeks.

“Don’t you _dare_ say _anything_.”

Felicia really hated how she couldn’t see her Servant’s face at that moment, as the silence she’d ordered was deafening. She stood up briskly, now wide awake, and sent a dirty look in the general direction she could sense him from.

“I’m going to fix the bike now- break it again, and I’ll leave you for dead next time.”

The red haired woman stomped out of the room, determined to think about anything other than the smug face she was imagining on Lancer’s face.

* * *

Saber lay on the cool, gentle grass, the clear morning sky filling his vision. He felt his strength slowly returning to him, here, at the site he’d been summoned, with his Master nearby.

“Troublesome,” Gracia muttered, crouching next to her Servant, examining his arm, “the wound healed, but the curse remains. It’s pretty complex too- no wonder it stuck around after you healed yourself. It’s like a leech, sapping at your mana reserves…but only when you’re holding your Noble Phantasm…?”

The woman dropped from her crouch to a sitting position, pinching her hair in thought. Her servant chose not to speak up, awaiting Gracia’s conclusion.

“No, not because it’s your Noble Phantasm…it’s because it’s a divine regalia. A bow, whose arrows can curse users of divine weapons…”

A calculating smile grew on Gracia’s face.

“Well, Saber, it looks like you’ve taken one for the team,” she said, “how familiar with Magvel’s history are you?”

“The Fire Emblem summons Heroic Spirits from the Outrealm, where we have an understanding of most notable heroes and conflicts across the world.”

“Great, so you must know what the Nidhogg is, right?”

The swordsman’s mouth opened slowly in realisation.

“Oh…”

“Yeah. You met with Archer, didn’t you?”

“Before the battle. He didn’t seem to like me very much…” Saber admitted, “or, rather, the idea of working with me. I should have taken his threat more seriously…”

“It’s fine, see? It all fits into place. We now know who Archer is,” Gracia responded, devoid of any reassuring tone, “wielder of the Nidhogg, known as the Prince of Archery…Innes.”

“And the way to stop the Nidhogg’s curse…”

“…is to destroy the bow itself- or kill Archer.”

Gracia stood and stretched, considering their next plan of action.

“This means Archer is our priority from here on out. Forget Caster for now- he’s lost a lot of power, and you can take him any time with ease once you’re free of the Nidhogg’s curse. After you’ve replenished your energy, start hunting for Archer. You’ve seen him in action; be wary of his strategic and tactical ability.”

“He must have been thinking ahead when he shot me…”

“No doubt about it. I suspect his strategy was to have you and Caster take each other out- or heavily weaken each other. All according to plan…this, actually, may work more in our favour than we realise. Innes is described as the brash, prideful, even arrogant type.”

“Yeah, I got to see that first hand.”

“But he may get overconfident with the knowledge that you’ve been cursed by his bow. So what you need to do is take advantage of this.”

“Right.”

“I’ll begin tracking his Master down in the meantime. Depriving him of his mana supply, like with Caster, won’t be crippling, but it’ll put him on a time limit- depending on what rank his Independent Action is at.”

Saber went silent for a moment, pursing his lips.

“His Master’s name…it’s Harold Galloway. I met him last night, before the battle. He appeared to be…very anxious about being near a combat zone. Unfortunately, I couldn’t gauge his ability, but…”

“Oh? Galloway, you say…? And Harold, no less…this simplifies things.”

“Do you know him, Master?”

“The Galloways live in their own world, having little to do with anyone else in the Association. They cut themselves off to help their image, and give the illusion that they hold more power than they actually do. Harold’s elder brother, Jeremiah, wasn’t content with this stance, wanting to assert more dominance in the Association. Their father feared his ambition, and had him killed, leaving Harold, the inexperienced, sheltered fool, as his heir. Naturally, nobody suspects any hint of foul play…”

“How…sad,” the Servant muttered, “but how do you…?”

But the assassin had already begun walking away, waving over her shoulder.

“…Oh, yeah. You’ve saved me a lot of effort here. Good job.”

With that, Saber was left alone in the clearing, with only the cool morning breeze to serve as company.

* * *

Deep in the forest, vibrant with colour and life, the figure of Guardian, a vessel in need of sleep, meandered under the shadows of the dense trees. Although she felt more inclined to return to the church and sleep after the events of the previous night, her desires did not always match her purpose in the war.

Besides, she’d been after a true change of scenery and a breath of fresh air since being summoned.

“What could be so deep in this forest…?” the Servant asked herself, unaware of her own motives.

Despite her lack of energy and enthusiasm, she was glad to not be in the church for once, and the creatures of the forest seemed to enjoy her company. Birds chirped their merry songs, and foxes drew close with no hesitation.

“…If nothing else, I suppose I could find a tree to rest under. I feel there is little that would disturb my slumber here…”

Guardian came to a halt upon spotting a streak of sunlight ahead of her. Under it, bathing in the radiant light, a decaying statue sat precariously on an ancient pedestal.

“A shrine?”

The Servant approached curiously, eyeing a small, rotting building behind the statue; it was likely this place hadn’t been visited by people in hundreds of years. The statue itself was lacking several features, including a head, but it was undeniably apparent that it was meant to depict a dragon.

But which dragon, then?

The shape was too far off the mark to be Naga, or any other divine dragon for that matter. What was intact seemed to resemble an earth dragon, but what human would worship a dragon of that tribe? Not only that, humans tended to associate their ‘gods’ with their human forms…

Perhaps this was constructed by Manaketes…or maybe a cult?

At the very least, Guardian could work out why she’d been led here. The dilapidated shrine was built directly on top of a Dragon Vein- dubbed by modern mages as leylines. A much richer source of mana than the church’s own leyline, making it a perfect place to sleep and regain energy. The curse hadn’t done her any favours last night, and now, more than ever, she longed for rest.

So, after making herself comfortable, settling down by the statue, she gently shut her eye, and slept her weariness away.

* * *

_A faint light filled the church._

_A man knelt in prayer._

_Over time, nothing changed._

_The scene was undisturbed._

_Then, the child-_

_“Kneel before Naga, Adelina.”_

_“Yes, uncle.”_

_A man, and a girl, knelt in prayer._

_Time passed._

_“Remember, child; Naga’s light can bring people together…and it can pull others apart. It can guide many to one place…and lead even the most tightly bound down separate paths.”_

_“Does that mean…there is no right answer?”_

_“It can do. However, no one will never be wrong. Not you, not I, and certainly not anyone else.”_

_The child, in silence, nodded._

_“Before anything else, Adelina, should you ever feel lost- follow Naga’s holy light. It is a blessing all people are granted; and know that it is our duty- and our privilege- to lead others into their own light.”_

Groggily, Adelina’s eyes adjusted to the sunlight. She hadn’t expected or wanted to dream about her uncle- especially when it left her to wonder where Naga’s light was leading him.

“Eugh…good mornin’, Assassin,” she grumbled, catching sight of her Servant dutifully keeping watch, as always.

“…It’s afternoon, Master.”

The girl froze, and ran her hand down her face while groaning.

“Noooo…Goddess save me, I’m becoming a delinquent…”

Blearily, Adelina stood, grumbling to herself, slowly taking in her surroundings.

“…And once again, I wake up in an unfamiliar place…”

She turned to face her Servant, whose expression was as blank as always.

“How did last night go?” she asked.

“The Morphs have been eliminated. Nergal escaped, but is greatly weakened. With your permission, Master…I will go and finish the job.”

“Finish the job…” Adelina repeated, the implications clearly apparent to her, “I guess it has to be done…”

A nod answered her.

“Very well,” she said, “but tonight, I’d like you to escort me somewhere. Archer’s Master has offered an alliance with me- I think it’s an option worth pursuing, and I want to give it a chance.”

“…I see,” Assassin’s acknowledgement was a short response. The cleric had hoped for a little more to work with, but she continued to underestimate how little feedback her Servant could offer.

“So, uhm, just to be sure, I’d like you around…”

“Of course, Master. I will follow you…wherever you may need to go.”

Adelina looked away shyly, staring at the floor, fiddling with her skirt.

“Also, c-could you call me…Adelina?” she said, “I don’t really consider myself a Master, and I can’t help you much, but…we’re partners, aren’t we? We’ll make it through this war, together.”

Surprise faintly crossed Jaffar’s face momentarily.

“…Erm…Adelina, then.”

The girl smiled at her Servant- her companion- and for the briefest of moments, his expression softened enough to show a tiny smile of his own.

* * *

In an effort to avoid Archer- delaying the inevitable, in other words- Harold had immediately gone to bed upon returning to his room after the events of the night before. He’d spent most of the night and morning pretending to sleep; ever since the war began, anxiety had kept him from resting properly every night.

Unfortunately for the mage, a confrontation was inevitable, and not even a minute after he rose from bed was he met with Archer’s probing gaze.

“Harold. Let’s talk about our plan of action.”

The Galloway broke into a cold sweat the moment he was addressed.

“Y-yes, let’s…” he stammered, hoping his Servant would take the initiative. But when all Archer did was raise an eyebrow, Harold continued, “you, aha, did pretty well last night…”

“You noticed? Indeed, I’d say it went pretty well; I suppose there’s no better way to learn about an enemy than to fight alongside them. Landing the Nidhogg’s curse on Saber was a nice bonus…he might be my biggest threat in this war.”

“Eh? Saber? But-”

“But what? Rider has high endurance, but she won’t catch me off guard again. And as for Lancer, I just need to take extra precautions so he can’t gauge my position. Assassin and Caster are barely worth my time, but Saber…” Archer’s eyes narrowed as he spoke, “he has impressive awareness of his surroundings, I’ll give him that…”

The bowman elected not to mention the dragon that had gravely injured him a few days before; he still wasn’t sure what he’d fought on that day.

“About that curse on Saber,” Harold said, “you can, ah…remove it, right?”

The Master earnt a sour look in response.

“Huh? And why would I give up my advantage over him?”

“W-we could use it as a sign of goodwill! If Saber’s your greatest threat, then maybe it’d be best to work with him for some time; so, if you show you’re willing to give up your advantage, then…”

“This again…” Archer sighed, shaking his head, “you know, Harold, I didn’t mind working with Assassin last night. Even I couldn’t ignore the number of Morphs coupled with the growing power of Caster. And, this may surprise you, but I certainly can’t stomach the death of hundreds of innocents. But Caster is effectively out of the picture now. He’s back to square one, and I’m sure Assassin or someone else will finish him easily in that state. So, why should we ally ourselves with anyone else now?”

Harold’s heart sank, but he did not relent.

“If not Saber, th-then there’s Assassin and his Master! You’ve worked with Assassin, and his Master is just a girl, with no wish of the Emblem. She’s from the church but-”

“The church…great. What else do you know about her?”

“Er- well- her name’s Adelina, and…uh…”

“Why do I bother expecting anything from you?” Archer once again sighed, shrugging, “she’s an enemy Master. What if she was lying to you?”

“But-”

“Tell me, Harold. How much is your wish worth to you?”

“M-my wish?” the mage repeated with a blank expression, “I…well…”

Archer’s gaze was a relentless assault of pressure. Never before had Harold felt so backed into a corner; he felt sweat form on his forehead as he numbly scrambled his mind for an adequate answer.

“I just…I just want to be normal!” he cried.

“Normal?” Archer echoed, as though he’d never heard the word before.

“Yeah…normal. Not a mage…not a Galloway,” Harold clarified, drawing heavy, nervous breaths, “my brother was meant to be the family heir, you see. And I was happy with that. I never wanted to be the successor. But when he died…it felt like my life ended too. Suddenly, I was behest to my family’s every whim, stripped of all freedom and normalcy. I don’t want it. I don’t want any of this…”

He couldn’t bear to look at his Servant, so his eyes fell to the floor.

“It’s stupid, right? I never wanted any of this. But running away is impossible…”

“…So you want to use the omnipotent Fire Emblem to grant your wish to…run away?”

“Y-yeah, that’s about it.”

Archer stood, renewing his glare.

“Worthless. If you won’t fight for what you want, then why should I fight for you?”

The man raised his head, and regretted it instantly; his Servant’s eyes were burning with intensity.

“I am the heroic spirit Innes! My archery skills are second to none! The entire reason I am in this war is to fight! Don’t you get it?” Archer declared, “I have no wish, no lingering regrets; I was brought to this era to do battle with history’s greatest!”

Harold could only gape at the Prince of Archery, terror paralysing him in the spot.

“I’ve had enough of this farce! I gain nothing from answering to you,” Innes spat, advancing menacingly, bow in hand, “you sicken me.”

“N-no, please, I- don’t,” Harold cried, falling backwards as his treacherous Servant raised his bow. Clumsily, the mage stumbled against the wall, breathing heavily, panic gripping his mind as he realised there was no escape.

Innes drew back his bowstring as tears streaked down his Master’s face, who raised his hands to cover his eyes.

“D-don’t hurt me! Spare me!”

A sudden, sharp red flash emanating from Harold’s hand caught his breath; but his fear was reborn once he saw the smirk on Archer’s face.

To his relief, however, the Nidhogg faded from the Servant’s hands, who muttered but one word.

“Perfect.”

The mage’s baffled shock prevented him from speaking for a few moments.

“Y-you- baited me…why…? I was…your source of mana…”

“So?” Innes said, turning away, “with my Independent Action, I can last a day or two without you, fortunately. In that time, I’ll just look for a more suitable Master. Of course, I had no intention of harming you. You’re not even worth wasting arrows on.”

With one last scowl, Archer began dematerialising.

“Now, go run along to the church. Cowering away under the protection of others is how you live, right?”

With that parting statement, Harold realised he was a Master no more.

* * *

Though it was another busy evening in downtown Nagilis, few noticed the paper airplane gliding gently above the packed street, and none caught on to how it seemed to be flying against the breeze. With the minimal attention it garnered, its final act went unseen; it slowed to a halt in front of the Grand Akaneia hotel, unfolding and sticking to the wall, matching its colour.

Although unobserved, the blonde mage responsible had felt the act; the paper airplane had been enchanted to follow any mana traces in the area, and upon finding a source, set up a weak analytical bounded field where it originated. Once Gracia had an idea of the layout of the hotel, and what sort of traps or mages were inside, the paper burnt away in a flash, and the field dissipated as though it’d never been there in the first place.

“No traps? No anything? Just one mage,” Gracia muttered, “fairly high chance of it being Galloway, then. It certainly fits his nature…”

Briskly, the woman stepped inside the hotel, an old briefcase in hand, eyes darting around the lobby before preceding to the front desk.

“Excuse me…” she said, getting the attention of the receptionist, “I have a package here for a Harold Galloway. Say it’s from…an ally.”

With a suggestion charm behind her speech, Gracia smiled sweetly, and placed the briefcase on the counter. The receptionist blinked, and took hold of it slowly.

“Yes, of course…”

“Thank you. Have a nice day,” the mage said pleasantly, excusing herself. The charm allowed her to skip a few steps and questions, and now her safety net was in place.

Next, she made her way towards the elevators at a more casual pace, but stopped short before pressing any buttons.

On second thought…

Gracia’s magecraft eliminated her presence from cameras, and could easily disrupt weak electrical equipment from proximity. While easily adjustable, she found herself more inclined to exercise caution, especially with Clementine’s drones and bugs all over the city.

Besides, in the case that nobody else was on the lift at the time, anyone watching through CCTV would see the doors open for no one, and the button press itself. It raised too many questions, and would backfire her attempts to be subtle.

The stairs would be less effort, then.

Although unaware of Harold’s room number, analysing the building had revealed that he was on the ninth floor. From there, tracing a mage at such close range would be simple. While faint, Harold had left traces of mana that any trained mage could pick up on.

Making little sound, Gracia drew to a stop near room 952, and pressed her back against the wall next to the door. With her finger, she drew a quick sigil, confirming what she knew.

Definite mana residue was present, although light; she could also read a faint non-magical signal being broadcasted outside the room. In fact, there were multiple, each corresponding to small devices around the room. Without a doubt, this was the work of Clementine, who’d identified an easy target…

…and settled with keeping tabs on him?

Now, why would she do that? Was she so confident that she could deal with Galloway any time?

Or, maybe…

The poor, untalented sap was being used as bait. Clementine knew that any half-skilled mage in this war would have little to no difficulty sniffing out Harold Galloway from his feeble hiding hole, and true to form, had used nothing to suggest magic was at work while monitoring him in the hopes that another Master would snatch up the easy pickings.

Not bad.

Entering the room to kill Harold would tip her off, then…

All the bugs could easily be disabled from outside the room. However, this too would alert Clementine.

But, that could work out fine; it seemed Harold had left the room for whatever reason. And if he was passing through the lobby, then Gracia had nothing to worry about.

Short circuiting the bugs took mere seconds, as did unlocking the door, and so the mage shortly found herself inside Harold’s room.

An empty room.

“Signs that someone’s been here, but it looks like he’s taken everything and run,” Gracia said, “doubt he saw me coming, so something else must have led him away. Oh well…”

Her focus instead shifted to the window, and the sunset outside. From this floor, the sky’s mix of oranges and reds clashed with the Nagilis skyline to make a sensational view.

“Ah…I’ve missed this.”

Following that, the room was silent once more.


	10. Night Six

- _Night Six_ -

Hastily dragging his suitcase along, Harold stumbled out of the elevator, short on breath from fear alone. There was no time to lose. He was defenceless now that his Servant had broken their contract.

Rushing over to front desk, he forcefully placed his room keys on the counter.

“I’d like to check out, please,” Harold said firmly. The receptionist slowly took the keys, disguising her bemusement with a fake smile.

“Name and room number?”

“Uh, Harold Galloway, room-”

“Oh, Mister Galloway? Actually, there’s a package- a briefcase- here for you. From a, uh…ally, apparently.”

Harold’s thoughts grinded to a halt upon hearing the word ‘ally’. Tentatively, he received the briefcase; it wasn’t very heavy, but he had no way of telling what was in it until he opened it.

But…what if it was a trap?

But, also…what if it wasn’t? What if someone was actually looking out for him?

“…We hope you enjoyed your stay,” the receptionist said, waving him away.

“Wait! Who- who left this?”

“They didn’t leave a name.”

Crestfallen, urgency returning, Harold excused himself, quickly exiting the building with both cases in hand. Before considering this potential ally, he had to find safety, and the only shelter on this island was the church, under the watch of the overseer.

After spending several minutes on the roadside, his paranoia building, the mage finally managed to hail a taxi, and threw himself inside.

“The church- I need to go to the church,” he requested after taking a seat. The driver glanced back, his eyes flicking between passenger and suitcase as his mind combined these factors with the destination.

“…Right you are, buddy,” the driver said, “which one?”

“Er…Naga’s…in the Outer district.”

“Oh, the temple?”

“No, that’s-”

“Oh, right, right, yeah, the church,” the driver confirmed, nodding, before sighing and resting his head on the steering wheel momentarily, “of course it’s the furthest location possible. Of course. I should up my rate for this trip, I should. Bloody highway blew up last night, Mila save me, going _anywhere_ is a pain in the backside now.”

“Aha, I see-”

“I hope you’re ready for a few hours of gridlock, pal. Got any radio station requests?”

“Can you just-”

“Classical station’s got the _Black and White War_ opera playin’ but the only worthwhile act is the third, if I say so myself.”

“I don’t care, just- please drive,” Harold moaned in exasperation.

“On it. Though, really, in the grand scheme of things, what’s a five-minute wait in a three-hour journey?”

The mage ignored the driver, unable to keep a level head about the situation. Three hours in gridlock? Perhaps getting out and walking would be faster; it’d leave him just as open, either way.

It was probably this infernal war that caused the highway damage in the first place.

“Here on a pilgrimage, then?” the driver attempted to start conversation, but Harold’s attention was now on the mysterious briefcase from his ‘ally’. As much as his logic told him to wait until he was truly safe, the thought of waiting for hours with this case in reach and not opening it drove him up the wall.

He took a deep breath.

Undid the latches.

He took another deep breath.

As slowly as possible, he opened the case.

“…Huh?”

It was mostly empty; aside from padding, there was just one item inside. A small, plain, standard knife.

A letdown, for sure, but Harold’s hand hovered over it all the same; perhaps there was something special about it, and looks truly are deceiving?

Gently, the mage placed his fingers on the knife-

And in that instant, his life came to an end.

* * *

Motorbike repairs finished, with grime and grease covering her skin and clothes, Felicia returned to her surveillance room. She couldn’t decide between a shower or food, but checking the situation with Lancer took priority over her needs.

To her mild surprise, Lancer had taken material form before she entered.

“Oh. Recovered already?”

“Mostly.”

He certainly looked in good shape, but his visor was still cracked, much to his Master’s displeasure.

“Situation?” she inquired, taking a seat and feeling a wave of nausea from looking at the array of monitors.

“No sign of Saber, no sign of Assassin, no sign of Caster nor his Master…”

“What about Saber’s Master? Any sign of them?”

“As elusive as ever- but we did get three more broken devices.”

Felicia muttered several expletives under her breath as her Servant continued, “we’ve also lost track of Galloway.”

“What?” the mage exclaimed, her vision homing in on the feed from the bugs in Galloway’s room, which now showed only static, “when the hell did this happen?”

“Following a brief altercation between Master and Servant, Archer and Galloway both went their separate ways, and not long after that the feed went down. That was about…two minutes ago.”

“Holy shit.”

“Master?”

Felicia leapt out of her seat, grabbing Lancer by the arm and dragging him with her.

“C’mon, quick, we’re taking the bike!” she declared, “we might be able to catch them before they leave!”

“Surely they’ll have left already-”

“They might leave a trail!”

Lancer could only chuckle at Felicia’s optimism, and allowed himself to be pulled along.

* * *

“Master? Master…?”

The boy did not respond, continuing to limply stare at nothing.

“Master…”

Kerry had his arm around Stella’s neck, using her as support as the two made their way through the back alleys of Nagilis in order to not draw attention from the general public. It was hardly efficient; even with magic numbing his leg, he had to stop and rest every ten minutes or so. The Morph had offered to outright carry him multiple times, but Kerry hadn’t spoken once since confirming where they were going.

A hospital was out of the question; too many questions would be asked, and his Morph- now, and always, his only true ally- would not be able to guarantee his safety.

Instead, the church was his only option now- under the watch of the unnerving priest.

“…Kerry.”

The former Master ceased limping, but his near-lifeless stare continued.

“You’re gonna…die soon,” he said hoarsely.

“I know.”

An uncomfortable silence permeated the air. Kerry felt as though he was the one close to death; his last substantial meal had been days ago, and his wound still made him lightheaded every now and then.

“Everything always has to go wrong,” he moaned, “I never even had a reason to be in that stupid war anyway. And now it’s gonna…”

The man’s lip began quivering.

“You were just created to care about my wellbeing, but I’m so pathetic and lonely that I’ll take any gesture of concern and…latch on, because I…”

He shot a quick, ashamed look at the Morph, who stared back with her typical stoic face.

“…Caring about things is so hard, and takes so much energy. I stopped caring about myself when I realised I had no value to the world, or society, or whatever. I figured it was just an unspoken rule that worthless people don’t get a second thought from anyone else. So, I…I don’t know what to do when people are nice to me. Usually, I just suspect there’s an ulterior motive at play.”

“Kerry, you know I-”

“Of course that was the case here, too. You were just a temporary tool, while Caster…did his thing. I guess when he won, he was going to kill me anyway. But now…he’s gone, so…you don’t have to force yourself to care.”

“Force…myself?”

“I mean, you don’t have long left, so…you can do whatever you want, I guess.”

“Whatever I want…”

Neither moved for some minutes; neither even stole a glance at the other, and no words were spoken. Kerry felt close to passing out, his mind a jumble, his throat dry after rambling everything on his mind.

“If I can do whatever I want, then…that makes me more…human, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Stella nodded.

Then, without warning, she swept Kerry off his feet, hoisting him into a bridal carry with ease. The young man stammered and yelped in surprise as the Morph continued walking through the alleyway.

“Why are you-”

“Because I want to,” Stella responded, “being human is all about…doing what you want. And I like feeling human, even if it’s only pretending.”

“You…” Kerry said, pausing to let his head slump on his protector’s shoulder, “you drive me crazy.”

“Oh…I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s…well, it’s good and bad, but…I wouldn’t have lasted this week if it hadn’t been for you.”

“I’ll stay with you, until my end,” Stella said, a faint smile on her face. Kerry bit his lip; how was he meant to return to his normal life after she was gone?

After all that’d happened, could he really live like before?

“Funny…I only thought of a wish after I lost my chance of getting it granted…”

With that, he drifted off to sleep in Stella’s arms.

* * *

The night was young, and the Grand Akaneia Hotel lobby was full of disgruntled tourists grumbling about how getting anywhere was hugely inconvenient now, and how dangerous this city had become. There were just enough people for Adelina, wandering around alone, to not stand out or draw any attention.

There were also just enough people to make the young girl feel wildly out of her element.

With deep breaths, and several prayers to Naga, Adelina looked around the lobby for a way to the upper floors.

“Room 952…room 952…so, the ninth floor? Ah, that’s pretty high up…” she muttered. She’d only been downtown once before the war, and she’d never been up any tower in her life.

The thought of being so high from the ground scared her.

Fortunately, the reward was worth the risk; an alliance would be a great weight off her mind.

“ _Adelina. I sense a Servant outside. Shall I investigate?_ ”

“No, wait. It might be Archer,” Adelina whispered.

“ _…Perhaps. He feels a little more…imposing…than before, though._ ”

“Even if it isn’t…I doubt they’d attack us in a crowded area. Let’s just…proceed with caution.”

The girl managed two steps before her companion spoke again.

“ _There’s someone closing in on your position now._ ”

Gulping, Adelina hastened her pace-

“Just where do you think you’re going, kiddo?” a voice, accompanied by a gloved hand gripping her wrist, came from behind. Time froze for Adelina, who felt a cold sweat build on her forehead.

“D-do anything, and Assassin’ll…intervene,” she hissed. Nobody around them seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary, much to her dismay.

But after glancing back at the source of the voice, she gaped in a stunned silence.

“It really was you…Adelina, right?” Felicia Clementine said, looking particularly annoyed.

“Uhm, hello…Miss Clementine…”

“Assassin’s Master, huh? What’s a snotty little rodent like you doing in the Fire Emblem War?” the woman said, receiving a stink eye in response.

“Would you believe me if I told you that my uncle is a psycho lunatic dastard who belongs in a deep pit of hell where only dark dragons reside?”

Felicia, blinking in undisguised surprise, loosened her grip on the girl.

“I…yes, absolutely. In fact, I’ve never so strongly related with a sentiment in my life.”

It was Adelina’s turn to be taken aback, feeling slightly more relaxed in Felicia’s presence.

“My uncle was going to participate, so…” she began explaining.

“You took it upon yourself to mess up his plan. Not bad, little Addy.”

Adelina scowled at the new nickname as the woman continued, “but that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Don’t think I don’t know who is- or, was, I guess- staying here.”

“…Was?”

“Yeah,” Felicia said, guiding the girl to a seat as she spoke, “Harold’s gone AWOL. Archer isn’t around, either. You wouldn’t happen to know what the deal is, would you?”

“Mister Galloway is…gone?”

The mage’s serious expression bored through Adelina’s skull.

“I was only here to- well, talk about working together,” she said, starting to feel nervous again, “I don’t really want the Emblem for anything, I just don’t want my uncle to have it, and Mister Galloway seemed, uhm…open to cooperation?”

Felicia ran her hand through her hair, sighing and shaking her head.

“Don’t want the Emblem? Sheesh…I get you’re in a weird position, kiddo, but-”

“Weird position? My uncle wants me dead!”

The redhead took a moment to picture the priest threatening to kill his own niece.

“Fuck, of course he does,” she conceded after a single second, “fine, fine. If it’s your safety you’re worried about…”

Felicia leant forward, softly gripping Adelina’s hand, her thumb brushing against her three Command Seals.

“…Gimme these, and I’ll make sure you’re safe until the war’s over. And afterwards, too. If need be, I’ll make sure you make it back to your parents safe and sound, since your uncle, as we both know, cannot be trusted for jack.”

It was an appealing offer.

The logical, ideal choice was to take it.

Felicia Clementine was an honest person, despite her noticeable personality flaws.

All the same, Adelina’s instinct was to withdraw her hand.

“Figured,” Felicia shrugged, “worth a shot, though.”

“Sorry, Miss Clementine, but…Assassin and I both want to see it through to the end. Uhm, that is…”

“How about this, then? We’ll call a little truce. You don’t get in my way, and I’ll turn a blind eye to whatever you do. Got it?”

“Uh…”

“Unless you want auntie Felicia’s Servant to kick Assassin’s butt and leave you unprotected?” the woman said, raising an eyebrow, smirking, before internally cringing at the thought of calling herself ‘auntie’ in any context.

“…A truce is good. I wouldn’t want to get on auntie Felicia’s bad side…”

“Cheeky little twerp.”

Adelina chuckled, and Felicia joined in, lightly ruffling the girl’s hair.

“Oh, yeah, while you’re here,” the mage said, “gimme the rundown about Caster.”

The ruffling ceased, but the gloved hand didn’t leave her head- and, somehow, Adelina had the feeling it wouldn’t until she spilt the beans.

* * *

Outside the hotel, Lancer stood in the shadows, garnering as little attention as possible; even when he did draw looks, his Knight of Obscurity skill prevented people from double takes. Fortunately, the number of people passing by was dwindling rapidly as few wanted to be outside at night with all that’d happened recently.

From a normal person’s perspective, hundreds- maybe even thousands- had gone missing, and mysterious explosions had destroyed and damaged various parts of downtown Nagilis.

From Lancer’s perspective, though…

He just needed to do whatever his Master commanded. After all, who was he to care about the general public of an era he had little connection to?

There was no use reflecting on it- especially when he could feel a Servant nearby. His first guess was Archer, since he should still be in the vicinity.

“Ah…you’re not Archer,” a voice called out, as a man clad in blue materialised in front of him.

“Astute observation. Did my lack of bow betray me?” Lancer snorted in response. Saber chuckled in good nature.

“Lancer. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Not since that first night, in fact,” the swordsman greeted, as though meeting an old friend again.

“Quite. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to pick up where we left off right now, Saber…or should I say, Marth?”

Saber’s smile did not waver, but he took his time before responding.

“I suppose there are eyes and ears all over this city,” he said, “unfortunately, an identity like mine is rather difficult to hide, considering the fame my name holds.”

“True…I suppose I should commend you for managing to keep it hidden for so long. That mask of yours…well, it certainly gave me second thoughts.”

“There are a lot of blue haired swordsmen in history, which works to my advantage.”

Lancer managed a wan smile in response before his expression stiffened. Saber seemed to be expecting this, falling silent, waiting for his fellow Servant’s next words.

“…Certainly. I accept you as the one and only Hero-King, Marth. I don’t need to see your face; your sword, clothing, height, and the way you fought me…it is simply the truth. That I accept. But…”

Saber did not react other than to look away from Lancer.

“The question is why, Marth. Why are you, of all people, of all heroes, participating in this war? Were you not satisfied with your life? What lingering regret, what wish could you possibly have?”

“I…” Saber hesitated, his smile fading, “I’m afraid I…”

Behind his cracked visor, Lancer’s hard stare probed his rival’s body language, who eventually turned to face him.

“I suppose I…”

The Heroic Spirit did not finish his thought, and silence blanketed the two for several minutes. Saber held a pensive look, but did not move, while Lancer indifferently watched the street and anyone who passed by.

“Lancer! Get the- holy shit, Saber?!” Felicia exclaimed, exiting the hotel with Adelina in tow. The Servant lightly bowed in greeting.

“Master of Lancer, I assume? It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Y-yeah, likewise…” the mage responded, “fuck, you really are Marth, aren’tcha? King of Heroes, in the flesh. Kinda, anyway.”

“Aha…most shorten that to ‘Hero-King’…though I’m not personally a fan of the title…”

Felicia began scowling at Saber, scrunching up her face in concentration, then clicking her tongue in irritation.

“Hey, Addy. See if you can read his parameters.”

Adelina made an exasperated look, but focused on the same Heroic Spirit, knitting her eyebrows in confusion.

“Are you a Master too?” Saber asked, to which the girl meekly nodded, but was cut off by Felicia before she could say anything.

“No, no, no- my questions first. That mask’s concealing your parameters, right?”

“That’s correct. It’s a Noble Phantasm of mine, in fact.”

The redhead stepped closer to the bluehead, examining him closely.

“Weird. I don’t remember anything about the King of Heroes wearing a mask,” she said suspiciously.

“That’s fair. However, there is a ‘Marth’ recorded in history who wore a mask- and it can be said that I am a culmination of all the many legends of heroes claiming that one name,” Saber explained, “though, at my core, I am what many would call…the Hero-King.”

Felicia took a step back, scratching her chin and giving the Servant an appraising look.

“Wow. Impressive. But I guess you must be, if you managed to keep up with my Lancer.”

“You flatter me. I do look forward to settling things with your Servant. He is a paladin worthy of respect.”

The mage shot the swordsman a sly look, as though ready to offer his Servant up for a duel, when Adelina chimed in suddenly, “uhm, Saber? I just wanted to thank you for your help…last night…”

“Likewise,” Saber smiled kindly with his response, “is Assassin here now?”

“Gah!” Felicia yelped as the Servant in question appeared directly behind her. Clearly, he’d been wary of her around his companion.

“…Saber. You recovered,” he said.

“Thankfully, yes. Was your search for Caster fruitful?”

“No,” Assassin replied, “although…I suspect he did not last the morning.”

“Well, if you can’t track him, then either he’s great at hiding, dead, or you’re a pretty cruddy Assassin,” Felicia said, cautiously moving away from Adelina’s Servant toward her own.

“I believe…his Master will provide the clues we desire.”

“It’d be prudent to find him as soon as possible, then,” Saber said, “Caster cannot be allowed to rebuild his power…can we count on your assistance with this, Master of Lancer?”

Felicia crossed her arms, pursing her lips.

“Maybe. I’m pretty sure Caster’s dead, but we’ll keep an eye out anyway. Oh, but speaking of Masters, though…yours is pretty elusive, I must say. I suppose that’s one less weak point for you.”

“You noticed? It’s rather lucky for me that my Master is more skilled at subtlety than I,” the swordsman quipped with a coy smile. The woman shot him a filthy look, but didn’t press the issue.

“Adelina…” Assassin muttered, to which his companion nodded.

“Yeah. I think it’s time,” she said, as Jaffar dematerialised, “aunt- erm, Miss Clementine, Saber…I, um…”

“Past your bedtime?” Felicia said, smirking.

“I enjoyed our meeting, young one. Please, take care,” Saber said, in stark contrast to Lancer’s Master.

“Master. None of our objectives were here…” Lancer spoke up, once Adelina had left their view.

“Yeah, thanks for that reminder. At least it wasn’t a total waste of time, I guess,” Felicia grumbled, eyeing the swordsman.

“I think I shall take my leave here also,” he said, “farewell, Lancer, Lady Clementine.”

“Lady…?” the redhead mouthed, stunned by genuine nature of the remark.

“Saber. I will hear your answer when we next meet.”

“I give you my word, Lancer.”

With that, Saber was gone, leaving Master and Servant alone in front of the hotel.


	11. Day Seven

- _Sometime, Somewhere_ -

_The girl, now a woman, is tortured by her desire to become attached to another human._

_She longs for a child; someone of her flesh and blood to give her a motherly feeling._

_Over the course of many years, she finds- and abandons- many partners for this purpose._

_She seeks an answer. A meaning to her life._

_Eventually, her womb holds a child._

_With no man at her side, she births a boy, and holds it in her arms._

_The boy shares her eyes; the woman gazes upon her child, seeking to find something with this connection._

_But it is not enough for her heart._

_Like everyone else she’d ever met, the child means nothing to her._

_She gives him a name._

_But it has no meaning to her._

_She speaks his name._

_It sounds foreign as it leaves her lips._

_The result is the same as always._

_The woman leaves the child behind, with no second thought; her wish remains unfulfilled._

_What the woman desires is nothing short of a miracle._  

* * *

- _Day Seven_ -

The sky never changed.

From dawn to dusk, dusk to dawn, the sky cycled through the same colours, a canvas for the myriad of clouds passing from one horizon to the other. What was true now, was true for thousands of years past.

The only thing that could change about the sky was the perspective it was viewed from. The heavens above, out of reach from those on land, only felt more daunting and expansive the higher it was viewed from; perhaps it could be said there was no limit, no boundary.

Was the sky endless?

From her position on her wyvern, Rider’s gaze drifted from the sunrise to the spectacle above her.

Was this all she wanted?

When she flew so far up, and ignored the land below, the dragonknight could pretend she was soaring above her homeland, as though nothing had changed. It felt natural, almost soothing.

Was this what she longed for?

Minerva knew her wish. Her innermost desire, her darkest regret, the reason she’d responded to the Emblem’s summons; but for that wish, her resolved wavered. As time went on, the nature of the wish changed.

It unsettled her.

As always…

Her problem was with herself.

Change was a natural process for anyone. Rider would never deny this.

But it was a process she didn’t understand, and thusly was a source of great unease.

The Heroic Spirit took refuge in watching the unchanging nature of the sky.

Every day, the same colours.

Every day, the same sun.

Every night, the same stars.

Every night, the same moon.

“…How ridiculous. This is a waste of time.”

She knew she had to get her act together. Inner turmoil would be a deadweight, especially considering some of her opponents in this war.

Her enemies…

Caster- who her Master had identified as Nergal- was dead.

Good riddance. How did such a despicable dastard get summoned into a holy war like this, anyway?

One less foe to concern herself with was more than fine. Especially a troublesome one like Nergal, who spread his minions like litter across the city for Minerva to clean up.

Assassin…she knew nothing of. He was good at hiding, that much was certain. But beyond that, even her Master hadn’t learnt anything of him.

In fact, her Master had expected Assassin’s Master to be the overseer, and had expressed genuine shock when evidence contrary to this had arisen.

However, the ability to hide was nothing compared to Rider; with her dominance of the skies, he couldn’t touch her, and even the finest of killers would be hard pressed to find her Master.

Archer- Innes of Frelia, apparently- would be pain to deal with, but his Anti-Air skill was nullified by her own Noble Phantasm, Iote’s Shield. She was still an easy target in the air, but he’d have to get creative with his position when attacking, else the events of the first night would occur once more.

Lancer…

An existence born to frustrate her.

Minerva- like many of those united under Marth’s banner- couldn’t begin to fathom the enigma that was Sirius. Part of her envied him and his almost robotic ability to unquestioningly follow orders.

The same part of Rider scorned him for this same reason.

How easy it must be, mindlessly following orders, letting others think for him-

Was that her honest opinion of him? Sirius, a once trusted comrade?

Sirius, who, at the Dragon’s Table, had fulfilled such a vital role, similar to her own?

Their clash two nights ago was a revealing one; Lancer was a dedicated, determined fighter, summoned by the Fire Emblem for a reason.

Lastly, there was Saber…

“Marth…”

Her lips twisted into a pained expression at the very thought.

“ _Ho ho! Rider, my dear, are there not better places to be locked in deep introspection?_ ”

The voice of her Master rang in her mind, easing her concentration away from her internal strife.

“Master. Have you no tact?” the red dragoon responded, “I get sick of being cooped up for long periods of time.”

“ _How did you manage in a monastery, I wonder…_ ”

“What did I just say about you and tact? Besides, I didn’t have the array of troubles plaguing me in my later life like I do now, thanks to this bothersome war.”

“ _Oh…? Ho ho! So you may say; but I believe you face the very same troubles as before- and those troubles are what drove you away from your kingdom, your throne._ ”

Minerva fell silent at her Master’s observation.

“ _Being honest with one’s self is no easy task. It requires self-discipline, wisdom, and clarity of thought. You face a losing battle, my dear. There are people you must confront; truths you must come to terms with. Until then, the keys of victory lie out of your reach…_ ”

“In short, attempting to deal with my burdens myself will create larger burdens, so I should concentrate on fighting to clear my mind and seek answers elsewhere?”

“ _Ho ho! I have been blessed with a rational Servant indeed._ ”

Rider grunted, unable to take the compliment at face value.

“You do realise the difficulty in telling myself ‘thinking time over, time to kill’, right?” she said, “being surrounded by familiar faces isn’t helping much either. This Fire Emblem has a cruel sense of humour, pitting former allies against each other.”

“ _Were you not prepared for this eventuality?_ ”

“Of course I was. But I’m not heartless.”

“ _You struck down your own brother, did you not?_ ”

“…Tact, Master.”

Rider’s typical hard gaze sweeping across the city as her wyvern descended, gliding above the settlement at a lower altitude. Both a way of scouting out any enemy Servants, and a ploy to draw attention to herself.

“Edward. I have a request.”

“ _Ho! This is rare, indeed._ ”

“It’s about Saber…Marth.”

Silence followed; Rider drew her mount to a halt above downtown Nagilis, coming to land on the heliport of one of the many towers in the city. From there, she approached the edge of the building, and sat, watching the morning breathe life to the people beneath her.

“The sooner I fight him, the better. I have too many doubts about him, and myself. So, please tell his Master this…I will fight Saber, on this very roof, once the sun has set.”

“ _…I suspected you may request this. It is within my power…but Rider, it one thing to meet with him, and another to duel him. Are you sure about this?_ ”

“I am.”

“ _Knowing that you stand opposed to Marth?_ ”

Minerva’s eyes narrowed.

“I have my doubts.”

* * *

With the church in sight, Stella roused Kerry from his sleep, who blearily glanced at his destination, letting out a defeated sigh.

“End of the line, huh…?”

Steadily, the Morph helped him stand, providing support as before.

“I’m really not looking forward to meeting that priest again,” Kerry moaned.

“The church is known for practicing healing magic. And this is the safest place to be until the war ends,” Stella said, “but I will be on guard, all the same.”

“Yeah…”

Neither made a move, despite being directly in front of the gates.

Entering the holy ground was admitting defeat. Defeat that Kerry would have welcomed before the previous morning.

“It’s all over,” he muttered bitterly.

“What, you don’t want it to end?” a familiar voice said, out of thin air.

The two tensed in alarm as a Servant gained form, leaning on the church’s gate.

“You’re…Archer?” Kerry said, while Stella moved herself in front of him defensively.

“You have no business being here, Archer. Kerry is no longer a Master,” the Morph warned, “let us pass.”

“Relax. I’m only here to talk. It won’t take long.”

Trading a glance with Stella, Kerry responded, “…Fine. We’ll hear you out.”

“I’ve been following you for the past few hours. Seems like Caster didn’t make it.”

“…What a shame.”

Archer cocked a half smile and shrugged.

“You found your reason to fight when it was too late, didn’t you? That’s the real shame here.”

The young man clenched his teeth, but didn’t respond, letting the Heroic Spirit continue, “if I had to venture a guess, it’d have to be something to do with that homunculus currently supporting you.”

“…It’s too late now, anyway.”

“Not so,” Archer waved off Kerry’s remark, stepping forward, “we’re both in a position to give each other something here. You see…I have no Master currently.”

“What…?”

“I was half considering finishing Caster off myself, then offering myself to you as your new Servant. But it seems I was beaten to it. Funny how things work out, no?”

“Hold on!” Kerry interrupted, “why would you- are you seriously- can you even do that?”

“Show me your hand,” Archer said, ignoring the outburst. Kerry, confused, held out his hand-

“Huh…?”

On the back of his hand was the single remaining Command Seal.

The Command Seal that should have faded with Caster’s death.

“See? Fate is a fickle thing indeed. The Emblem still regards you as a Master- someone with the desire and the right to hold it, and have their wish granted. And as long as you have Command Seals, you can form a contract with a Servant lacking a Master.”

The outstretched hand trembled.

“You…why me…?”

“I’ve taken a liking to you. And you have the drive to win. That’s all there is to it,” the Heroic Spirit answered, “I have no wish of my own; I just need a Master who will let me fight. You fit the bill quite nicely.”

Kerry failed to form words, his mind racing to keep up with the offer. The chance to win was in his grasp. Stella reached out, steadying his hand with a reassuring squeeze.

“Please be my Servant…Archer.”

Raising a hand to his chest, the servant nodded.

“By my honour as a Heroic Spirit, I shall fight on your behalf, and present you the Fire Emblem at the end of the war. I, Archer, shall be your Servant…Kerry Denton.”

The two made eye contact, and the connection was established. Victory was a reality for them once more, despite how overwhelming the odds were.

“We should think of a plan of action…Master. As pithy as your supply of mana is, it’ll be enough for me to deal with any of our enemies so long as we stay smart,” Kerry’s new Servant said.

“Er…yeah. I can’t really say I’ve understood half of what’s happened so far, though…”

“Archer. We need to ensure Kerry’s safety while he’s in this condition,” Stella said.

“Is there anyone else who can heal me? I don’t want to deal with that dodgy priest. He’s still expecting me to bring him his niece, I think…”

Archer placed a finger on his forehead in thought.

“Assassin’s Master, hm…? Harold did mention her…if she’s from the church, she may have healing magic of her own.”

“Oh? Then maybe we should find her!”

“Yes. She may also have knowledge about the Emblem,” Innes suggested, “if the overseer wants you to hand her over, then we can make a plan out of this.”

“Um, I don’t want to sound like I’m chickening out, but can it…involve not hurting the girl? It’d feel kinda…fucked up.”

“There shouldn’t be a need to. I can’t say I have any interest in turning my bow on her, myself. You may need to pressure her, though- if you mention your deal with the overseer, you can offer letting her go in exchange for information and healing.”

“I…guess,” Kerry agreed with little enthusiasm.

“Find somewhere to rest now. I’ll find you when I’ve located her.”

Kerry’s Servant faded from view, leaving his Master and the Morph alone with each other. Wordlessly, Stella lifted the young man up, carrying him away from the church.

“We’ve got…a chance now. Man, none of this feels real…”

Stella wore a small smile, feeling the same thing as the person in her arms.

Hope.

* * *

Felicia Clementine was furious.

This state of being was not new to her. In fact, some would claim this was her default state of being, and that if one was lucky enough to meet in her a calm state, it would be in their best interest to excuse themselves while they had the chance.

Indeed, Felicia’s infamous rage was second only to her ability as a mage, and both were overlooked by her unorthodox interest in technology and science.

But, at this moment in time…

She’d gone from lazily observing the city to standing and kicking her chair over upon hearing the morning news.

‘ _Mysterious Taxi Death_ ’ was the headline which caught her morbid attention.

“ _Tourist from Valm, identified as Harold Galloway, found dead in a taxi in the early hours of the morning. Early autopsy reports suggest the victim was electrocuted, although there was nothing found in the taxi with the high voltage output needed to fit the cause of death. The taxi driver has been taken in to custody for questioning about the event,_ ” the anchor reported.

This was…

The final straw.

Somebody had killed Harold- that didn’t bother her at all.

No, what bothered her was…

Everything about this situation. The secrecy of magecraft was in peril. As a Clementine, normally she’d be the one organising or handling the situation, keeping it out of public eye. But as a Master in the Fire Emblem War, the overseer was given that task.

The overseer, who was derelict of his duty.

“Friedemann…” Felicia growled, grinding her teeth, “I hope you’re saying your prayers now, you congested drainpipe of a priest…”

She wheeled around, glowering at her Servant, who was valiantly attempting to mind his own business.

“We’re going to church. You’re driving.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me monitoring-”

“Archer’s in that end of town. If you see him near the church, be sure to say hello, okay?”

The mage stomped out of the room, with Lancer following, mildly surprised she’d asked him to drive.

Was she aware that she was liable to road rage in this state? Or was the request born out of sleep deprivation?

In either case…

He had a duty to fulfil.

* * *

With Harold Galloway’s death confirmed, it was time to find Archer, and have Saber finish the job. Although Archer only had a day or two at best remaining, complacency was a killer, and if he found a new Master, they were back at square one.

Or worse- he could find an actually competent Master this time.

Seeing as this was an outcome Gracia wanted to avoid, she’d taken to directly coordinating her Servant as he combed through any possible hiding places. Archer may not be the type to waste away in a safe place, but his class did perform best from disguised locations with good vantage points.

“ _Saber. There’s a ley line a mile north of your position. There’s a chance he’ll try using one to replenish his mana, so make sure you comb through the area,_ ” she said telepathically to Saber.

“ _Understood._ ”

“ _The northern district is fairly flat so he’d be hard pressed to defend himself there. Direct your attention to the central district instead, once you’ve investigated the ley line._ ”

There was no way Innes could hide forever.

Eventually, Saber would smoke him out- and if he had a new Master, so be it. Gracia would kill them, too.

The mage glanced over the map of the city she was using to coordinate Saber’s search; they’d started downtown, and were working their way across the island. As a last resort, Gracia was considering using a Command Seal to heighten her Servant’s senses momentarily- almost like a radar for detecting Servants- but since they were a valuable commodity, there was no need for that yet.

Gracia didn’t get much time to consider the situation, however.

“ _Greetings! You are…the Master of Saber, yes?_ ”

The telepathic voice- which definitely wasn’t Saber- sent a jolt down the assassin’s spine, eyes widening with surprise.

Regaining her composure after the initial shock had worn off, Gracia steeled herself, deciding to respond and probe for information while she could.

“ _You must be a pretty skilled telepath. Would it be worth hunting you down? Or are you long range?_ ”

“ _Ho ho! Quite the feisty spirit. My location is well hidden, I’m afraid, and very much out of reach for you._ ”

The telepath seemed relatively jovial and good humoured, having somehow located Gracia, identifying her as a Master, and bypassed her mental wards. To do this from a long range, too…

“ _Oh, I get it. You used the outgoing link to my Servant…interesting. Needless to say, I’m impressed. No ordinary mage could intercept a mental link between a mage and their familiar. By process of elimination, I gather you are the Master of Rider, then?_ ”

“ _Indeed I am! You are mostly correct, although I am not able to listen in to the conversations of others. Your privacy is secure, my dear._ ”

“ _What a relief,_ ” Gracia conveyed as dryly as her mind was capable of, “ _so? You’ve amazed me, but what are you after?_ ”

She chose not to be unsettled by the pause that followed; rather, with knowledge of how Rider’s Master had managed to contact her, she was relieved. Scouting out personnel was one thing, but the fact that he’d had to go through such lengths showed that he didn’t know who she was.

The less people that knew who she was, the better.

The name ‘Gracia Alcott’ carried a lot of weight in certain circles.

“ _I am not after anything…however, my Servant has made quite the unusual request. She desires a duel with Saber._ ”

The mage brought a hand to her chin in thought.

Ridding Archer’s curse on Saber was the priority- its hindrance could not be ignored- but if this turned into a chance to take out Rider…

A powerful Heroic Spirit like Minerva couldn’t be ignored, either.

“ _Go on,_ ” Gracia responded.

“ _The Laguz Society tower has a helipad. Rider says it is quite the fitting stage for a battle. She insists that Saber come to meet her there after sundown._ ”

The Laguz Society was an ambitious charity with the goal of defusing war sentiments all over the world. An independent body, with ties to various churches, handling negotiation, peace talks, saving non-combatants from war zones- the list went on. Their tower in Nagilis was the tallest skyscraper in the downtown area, which meant that Rider would have total freedom in the skies, and Saber would be at a supreme disadvantage.

“ _…I’ll ask Saber how he feels about it,_ ” the assassin replied, fully aware his answer would be ‘yes’.

“ _Ho ho! Yes, I look forward to a favourable answer!_ ”

While her Servant was unable to drag a battle out, there was use in sending him to an unfavourable duel, Gracia reasoned. She’d have to keep close watch on the battle, her Servant, and any sign of the enemy Master.

“Search for Archer until evening, fight with Rider after that,” the woman muttered, “sure sucks to be popular, huh…Saber.”

* * *

Whatever peace and tranquillity that could be found in the holy ground devoted to Naga was shattered the instant Felicia Clementine kicked the grand doors off their hinges, entering the sacred domain like the devil itself.

Friedemann had never liked this woman. He tolerated her- it was practically his job to, after all- but the animosity they shared ran deeper than the centuries old conflict between the Mages’ Association and the many churches devoted to divine figures of old.

From their first meeting, the two had dropped all pretences, the young Felicia’s crude, unrefined attitude clashing with the priest’s by-the-book nature; likewise, Friedemann’s smug, contemptuous demeanor rubbed the mage entirely the wrong way.

In short, they were natural enemies.

“Y’know,” Felicia said, hand coated in white flames, “I was pretty fuckin’ pissed before I got here. But between the cathartic property damage, and actually seeing your stupid face? I am weirdly looking forward to this.”

The priest, however, failed to share her anticipation, eyeing the woman and the door with undisguised disgust.

“Hmph. As if your deplorable irreverence was bad enough. Now you come defiling Naga’s sacred home…”

Felicia began advancing, cracking her knuckles with a half frenzied look on her face.

“That’s right. Keep complaining…I’ll be sure to roast you good, right down to where Naga’s light don’t shine.”

“Haha. You forget my holy water- and my rather potent Divine tome,” the priest responded humourlessly.

“Fuck, if only you put half as much effort into being overseer as you do being a pompous overbearing _prick_ ,” the mage spat, stopping inches away from him.

“Oh, that? Please. Tell me what lasting-”  

Felicia’s flaming fist collided squarely with Friedemann’s jaw abruptly, launching him several feet into the air and back down crashing into the pews to the side. As he picked himself up, the woman relentlessly drove her fist into his abdomen.

It was like a blazing comet.

But Friedemann wasn’t getting burnt- his holy water was doing its job, and he praised Naga for it- but all too late he realised the Clementine mage was using a type of reinforcement magecraft to deliver such destructive blows.

His insides were mush, and he was at death’s door.

“I’m no sadist, but man, this is therapeutic,” Felicia said, delivering a kick to her natural enemy’s ribs, “I guess I just have a ton of pent up aggression because of this fiasco.”

Feebly, the priest clasped a small vulnerary, emptying the contents into his mouth as his assaulter brought her foot down on his shin.

“Well, congrats on not dying. I don’t really care either way, I just came here to vent, and you clearly have nothing better to do. I’m dying to know, though; why have you been doing fuckall to protect the secrets of magic this war?”

“Guardian…” Friedemann rasped, “she…forbade me from leaving this church…”

The mage stared at the priest in stunned silence. She knew him well enough to know such bold lies were above him.

“Guardian? But why…?”

“Fool. Did you think Guardian was just some loose cannon?” the priest sat up with a pained expression, “Guardian is the symbol of order in this war. She is-”

“Dearie me. Is this holy ground not neutral territory?” a hooded figure commented idly, wandering into view, “Felicia Clementine…I believe?”

When had this person arrived?

How did they get in so quietly- well, that wasn’t a question, not anymore; the noisy indicator of a new arrival had been ruthlessly kicked down only minutes beforehand.

“…That’s me,” the mage replied, grinding her foot on Friedemann’s leg.

“I must ask that you cease this at once. I understand your frustrations, but he speaks the truth.”

Turning to face the figure, Felicia shot her an appraising stare, her eyebrows shooting up.

“You’re Guardian…? You don’t look like much- oh, hell,” she said, as the Servant glanced at the man leaning against the wall.

“Friedemann. The doors are damaged. It’ll make quite the draft during the night. You should probably fix it…”

Guardian turned away, heading to the exit, but was stopped in her tracks by Felicia.

“You prevented him from leaving here?”

“I did.”

“Why? Loathe as I am to admit it, he’s this war’s overseer, and so it’s his job to-”

“Felicia Clementine,” Guardian said, making eye contact with the mage, “the Fire Emblem has little care for the secrecy of magecraft. It is not a priority in this war for me- and this priest is capable of doing more harm than good.”

Watching her turn and leave, Felicia muttered, “just what the hell are you, anyway?”

* * *

Outside the church, Lancer stood guard, carefully watching- and feeling for- any sign of Archer, or any other Servant that may be in the area. To his alarm, the first sign of anything he detected came from inside the church; an incredible spike of power with a haunting familiarity.

But his Master did not share his alarm, and seemed unharmed; clearly, this Servant respected the neutral ground- or at least, more than Felicia did.

The hooded figure that stepped out of the church’s doorless entrance answered the horde of questions racing through Lancer’s mind. No words were exchanged until the woman had closed the distance between the two.

“Ah, Sirius. I’m glad to see you look well,” Guardian greeted, speaking his true name almost carelessly.

“Yes…quite the splendid battle we had, Guardian. Divine dragons are indeed a force to be reckoned with,” Lancer responded, “but I suppose even you are threatened by Rider’s Noble Phantasm.”

“Oh? What would make you think that?”

“You seemed especially weary of while fighting her. I assume its Anti-Divine properties effect you, too?”

“…Partially,” Guardian admitted, “though it wouldn’t seal my abilities, it would leave me with a nasty injury. Thanks to Archer, I was struck by a similar, lasting curse a few days ago, limiting my transformation time. I was in quite dire shape by the end of our altercation.”

The hooded woman’s working green eye focused on Sirius’ cracked visor.

“Had I not interrupted your duel with Minerva…which of you two would have won?” she asked.

Lancer had no answer for her, and made no acknowledgement of her question. That seemed to be enough for Guardian, whose gaze moved to the dark maw of the forest.

“You’re older than I remember…but I think I recognise you. Guardian…your true name is Tiki.”

The spearman didn’t catch Guardian’s smile as she left his presence, letting her feet guide her along the same path she’d taken the previous day. But the atmosphere was different this time. Someone was- or had been- in the area.

That was a problem. She’d left the church because she was tired, and it was getting noisy.

The Manakete wondered if the intruders had found the shrine- her new favourite spot for a nap.

She dearly hoped it wasn’t Saber- or worse, Saber’s Master. Nobody could ever find peace of mind around her, Guardian had concluded. Not until she found it herself, at least. There were plenty of mysteries surrounding the woman, including- and most importantly- what she desired from the Fire Emblem.

To her relief, Gracia didn’t seem to be at the shrine.

Unfortunately, as expected, there was someone there-

“Oh…”

Adelina Scheuer stared at Guardian like a deer in headlights. But the Servant had no time to speak; Assassin was behind her, a dagger to her throat.

“…Leave.”

“Assassin, wait!” the girl said, earnestly looking at her companion, “she might not mean any harm…”

“We must be cautious. She is a Servant…”

“I appear to have let my guard down,” Guardian said calmly, “your Master is correct, Assassin. I have come here merely to rest.”

The dagger did not move; Assassin’s hawkish stare was firmly trained on the potential threat in front of him.

“As I am now, you could kill me easily,” the Manakete continued, “so, you have won, in that sense. However, if I decided to fight back…would you be able to kill me before I transform?”

No movement. Adelina nervously regarded the two, fearing the worst.

“You may be the Angel of Death, Jaffar, but you were summoned to protect a small girl. You’re not at your peak, not like this- you can’t heartlessly execute anyone, especially not in front of your Master.”

“You…how do you know…?” Assassin murmured, rattled by Guardian’s words finding their mark.

“There is nothing I do not know about this war…and there is nothing I cannot discern about any Servant.”

Yes, there was nothing she did not know about the Fire Emblem War…which made the mystery of Gracia Alcott all the more vexing.

“Wait!” Adelina spoke up, “Assassin…it’s okay. I know what Guardian is. If she’s willing to claim you win, she means it.”

Her Servant nodded, reluctantly withdrawing his blade, but remaining out of the woman’s line of sight.

“Adelina Scheuer…” Guardian said, observing the girl with newfound interest, “not as reverent as your uncle, but that may be for the best.”

“I, uhm, have a question.”

The Manakete cocked her head, inviting the girl to continue.

“Why would the Emblem accept me as a Master? I don’t understand…everything that night happened so suddenly, but the Emblem- it has a purpose for everything, right? So…why me?”

From under her cloak, Guardian’s hand emerged, gently coming to a rest on Adelina’s head.

“Learn, Adelina Scheuer. Learn about the people around you. Learn about the world you live in. I can’t say what the Fire Emblem expects of you- but I can tell you how to make the most of it. So, you must learn all you can.”

Adelina opened her mouth to object- to demand a more substantial answer- but no words formed in her throat.

By learning, she’d come to understand more.

By learning, she’d come to understand what answer she was seeking.

“Oh, er, thank you. Sorry to bother you…”Adelina said in a daze, bowing respectfully.

“Not at all,” Guardian said, withdrawing her hand, moving closer to the shrine’s statue, “now, if you don’t mind, I shall take a nap now. Once I’ve fallen asleep, you needn’t be mindful of my presence- no need to leave here if this is where you are comfortable. There is little that can stir me from my slumber.”

The girl nodded at Jaffar, who seemed to recognise the area was safe, and the two sat against a nearby tree, watching the peculiar Servant slowly nod off. Once her breathing was steady, and her consciousness gone, Adelina turned to look at her companion.

“You don’t normally stay material,” she commented, highly aware of their close proximity.

“…Sorry.”

“No- it’s okay! I just- it’s unusual, that’s all.”

“I felt like it, this time. Just for a bit.”

The two made eye contact; the young girl’s curious, probing gaze was matched with Jaffar’s emotionless stare.

No, it wasn’t that he lacked emotion- he simply lacked the means to express them.

“Was…what Guardian said true?”

“Yes. But…I disagree with one thing she said.”

“You do?”

“I think, right now…this is my peak. I feel less hollow…less like a puppet, designed to kill. I feel more…human.”

Adelina began to detect the emotion that wouldn’t show on his body language; the very same emotion that had driven him to protect her, from the moment he was summoned.

“I was better in my later life, with the one I loved by my side…”

Shyly, Adelina looked away, biting her lip.

“Were you happy, in your later life?”

“I was.”

“Can you…tell me about it? The things that made you happy, I mean.”

Jaffar’s tiny smile- something Adelina appreciated more now than ever before- returned, touched by the girl’s genuine curiosity.

She wanted to learn…

No, it wasn’t just that.

She wanted to learn about him.

“Sure. I’d be glad to.”


	12. Night Seven

- _Night Seven_ -

When Saber gained form at the appointed place- after a day of no results in finding Archer- he found Rider on the roof’s edge, staring at the mountain on the far side of the island. The dragoon made no sign of acknowledging Saber, and she was garbed in a more casual outfit than her usual armour.

The swordsman decided to be patient, and wait for Rider to make the first move, rather than getting her attention.

The night was clear; only a bitter breeze filled the air, taking Saber’s cape for a small dance.

“I’m glad I can let my guard down around you,” Minerva said at last, turning to face her old friend. Her expression was stern; perhaps normal for her, but it was not one she wore without reason.

“It’s almost reassuring,” she continued, donning her armour and weapon in a flash of light, “but it means nothing, ultimately. A superfluous feeling of nostalgia. We have our roles to play…and we may as well get this over with.”

Rider took no pleasure in the act of turning her axe against one of her most trusted comrades; but she’d resolved to do it sooner rather than later, and Saber could do nothing but respect that resolve.

“Very well,” he said, the sword of light forming in his hand, “I will accept your challenge…Rider.”

The effect of the Nidhogg’s curse was minor, but still one to be wary of. If he let this fight drag out, he’d lose all ability to fight back. However, Minerva faced a similar issue; her Early Initiative skill meant she couldn’t let the fight drag out either.

The woman took a step off the building as her mount came into view, whipping up a furious gust.

“My Master has set up a bounded field here. No one will notice our fight,” she said, “no holding back, Marth!”

Her wyvern sped forward, charging at Saber, who evaded Rider’s initial onslaught of attacks, stepping back and weaving away. For starters, he couldn’t let Hauteclere make contact with Falchion, else he’d be severely disadvantaged at this early- and vital- stage.

The swordsman began to realise the flaw with his plan as he searched for an opening in his opponent’s advance. He could just about avoid Rider’s dizzyingly powerful strikes- but he was being driven to a corner. On a rooftop like this, with only open space, a dragoon’s aerial mobility had an overwhelming advantage over a grounded fighter with limited room to manoeuvre.

“No choice but to…!” Saber grunted, finally blocking a blow. Hauteclere’s effect was instantaneous; the sword felt heavier, the light dimmed, revealing Falchion’s true form…

And, in an unexpected twist of fate, his arm ceased stinging.

The Anti-Divine curse had nothing to work on when his sword had been temporarily stripped of its divine properties.

Now…the real battle had begun.

* * *

“Whew…she’s pretty impressive,” Gracia said flatly, watching Rider put her Servant on the defensive. She’d found a nearby tower that almost reached the height of the chosen battleground, armed with a pair of binoculars to keep the two in sight.

As amazing as the foe was, she found herself more struck by how potent the short-term bounded field around the rooftop had been constructed. It didn’t just disguise what was in the field; it gave off a minor level of suggestion to any normal person looking in the direction, making them overlook it entirely.

And for those who knew what was inside, it didn’t apply.

Whoever Rider’s Master was, they certainly knew their stuff.

“ _Ho ho! Appreciating my art, are we?_ ”

“Speak of the devil…” the woman muttered.

“ _Setting the stage for a bout as marvellous as this is the least I could do in return for Saber’s acceptance of this challenge. They must be allowed to express themselves to their heart’s content!_ ”

“ _So? Does that mean you’re close by?_ ” Gracia responded, taking a moment to look for other vantage points in the vicinity, “ _or did you manage to set this up remotely?_ ”

“ _Who can say…_ ”

Of all the times to check his loose lips…

“ _Fine, then. Good luck trying to suss out my identity from telepathic chit-chat._ ”

“ _I do find it interesting,_ ” Rider’s Master said, while the assassin trained her binoculars back on the fight, “ _that you’d go through such lengths to protect your own identity…more than your own Servant, even. What could that mean, I wonder…? Ho ho…_ ”

“ _My Servant is one of the most well-known historical figures across the world. It’s pretty hard to hide his identity, even with a mask._ ”

“ _And you? If you’re so careful about hiding your identity, surely you must have an identity to hide…_ ”

“ _I could say the same applies to you._ ”

A series of explosions indicated that Rider had started utilising her axe’s latent power, her furious barrage of attacks keeping Saber on the defensive. The swordsman’s agility allowed him to avoid taking the brunt of the blows, but the explosive waves of energy were cutting it too close for comfort.

“ _Unleashed at full power…Hauteclere could demolish the entire rooftop, right?_ ”

“ _Ho ho! Not just the rooftop; should Rider deem it necessary, she could lay waste to most of the tower! I strongly doubt it will come to that, though._ ”

With that much power, Minerva could easily end this fight in one blow; Saber would have nowhere to run from the level of destructive force his foe’s Noble Phantasm was capable of.

Clearly, there was a reason she was holding back. Perhaps preparing a strike at that level took time? But even then, the dragoon had the edge in mobility, and all the aerial freedom she needed; Saber was fast, but Rider’s wyvern could easily evade him while Minerva prepared the finishing blow.

No, if Rider had a goal here, it wasn’t to kill Saber, that was for certain.

A duel for old time’s sake, then?

If that was the case, then why somewhere so unfavourable to Saber? Not only did Rider have such a clear advantage, her repeated use of her Noble Phantasm was blasting holes in the roof, giving the swordsman even less room to work with.

“ _Hey. What’s your Servant after?_ ”

“ _Ho ho! I don’t have a clue. But I do trust her judgement enough to let her formulate her own plans._ ”

Gracia clicked her tongue at the unhelpful- but entirely predictable- reply. Fathoming Rider’s motives was beyond her, and she needed to squeeze more information out of the enemy Master while she could.

It was all down to Saber to counter his foe’s plan.

* * *

The Laguz Society’s rooftop was approximately two thirds the total area it formerly was.

On it, a noble hero, clad in blue, was scarred and singed, steadying his breathing and his sword.

Above it, a mighty warrior, armoured in red, was in prime condition, slowing in pace but not intensity.

Rider swooped in, renewing her assault, her axe clashing with her opponent’s sword with incredible speed and force. Blow after blow, clash after clash, Saber found himself keeping up more and more.

Keeping up was one thing, but his sword was still heavy in his hands; he wouldn’t be able to counterattack like this. Not normally, anyway. He knew it, and so did Minerva.

The red dragoon was pushing him into this corner, as if forcing him to show his hand.

The swordsman had one last option remaining, his trump card- his greatest technique.

Taking a deep breath, Saber held his sword forwards, waiting for Rider to enter his range.

“Let’s dance!”

“It’s about time…” Rider muttered, readying her mount. The wyvern dived at Saber with blinding speed, Minerva preparing for the swordsman’s move, her eyes fixed on the legendary sword in his hand.

It was beautiful.

Even without its lustre, Falchion had an almost ethereal quality, and in the hands of the Hero-King, that trait was only amplified.

For in that instant, Saber sprang forward, thrusting the blade-

In that same instant, Saber ducked, slicing upward-

In that same instant, Saber twirled, bringing his sword down-

Anyone would be mesmerised by even just one of his movements, by the trails the Falchion made through the air. All Rider could do was spin her axe to block each attack; but she already knew that only one strike was true.

The most inconvenient for her, and the most optimal for Saber.

Marth’s signature technique, Dancing Blade, allowed him to make multiple moves simultaneously, always landing the most favourable strike possible. Its most potent quality was how it could be used in succession; now that Rider’s guard was partially broken, she was unable to move away nor block each oncoming blow.

Saber found his mark, his blade perforating the side of Minerva’s abdomen. Grinding her teeth, the dragoon grunted, ferociously backhanding her opponent away from her. Blood spurted out of her wound, but it did little to mire her similarly coloured armour.

“That’s it…his unparalleled swordplay. Now, I must answer in kind,” Rider said, firmly gripping Hauteclere with both hands, “I lack the finesse you have, but we all do things our own, unique ways, I suppose.”

Rising to his feet, Saber gasped as he caught sight of Rider on the brink of unleashing her Noble Phantasm’s full power. With nowhere to run, he leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding absolute destruction as the roof- and the entire floor below it- was engulfed in flames.

As gravity began to work, pulling the Servant back down, Minerva rushed towards him, attacking as abruptly as possible; Saber barely had time to twist his body, saving himself from decapitation, and was instead smacked in the head violently to the smoking tower below.

The swordsman plummeted through three stories, engulfed in charred rubble and dust. He coughed as he sat up, using a nearby desk for support…

At that moment, the illusion was broken.

The mask- struck by Hauteclere- split in two, sliding off his face, a trickle of blood running down from his forehead.

The disguise shattered on the ground, indicating that the farce was over.

_She_ looked up at Rider.

“This fight is over…Saber,” the red dragoon stated, now dismounted.

Saber’s long, blue hair flowed down past her shoulders, her now-visible eyes meeting Minerva’s.

“…You…knew?”

“I had a suspicions from the beginning. But it was quite the convincing disguise. On looks alone, I would never have figured. Looks like I was right to guess it was generating some powerful illusion magic.”

Indeed, Saber had seemingly shrunk several inches, her figure less broad than before.

Even her sword had changed form- though it was still Falchion, all the same.

“What gave me away?”

“’Lady’. You called me ‘Lady Minerva’. But Marth never did that- he saw me as an equal.”

“Something so simple…so if I’d just called you Minerva…”

Saber looked down, twisting her lips in shame.

“Simple? Perhaps it is. But no, you’re wrong there. I was ‘Princess Minerva’ to him. And it pained me every time he did. He believed in me…he, and everyone else, thought I could lead my country.”

“Medon…”

“Yes. But I failed them- my people. I wasn’t a leader- I was a warrior, a fighter. I could protect Medon, but I couldn’t lead it. That’s why I envied Marth…but mostly, I looked up to him, despite his belief that we were equals.”

Minerva sat, nursing her wound and gazing up at the moon.

“His charisma was otherworldly. He had a knack for bringing out the best in people…I couldn’t hope to compare,” she said, “ultimately, I failed, and left Medon in his hands. I ran away.”

Saber remained respectfully silent as she listened to the warrior’s words.

“As you can tell, I have a great deal of regrets; although it doesn’t matter to you, perhaps you’ll understand. You must look up to Marth a great deal to take his name…Lucina.”

The girl looked back up to Rider, rising to her feet.

“I do. I apologise if I caused any offence with my actions,” Lucina said, bowing her head.

“It’s fine. No hard feelings to you personally, but it doesn’t sit well with me to let just anyone use his name,” Minerva responded, “but still…I’m surprised. To think you learnt Dancing Blade…”

“It’s only a replica of his skill; he could use it for as long as necessary, while I can only use it four or five times in succession.”

“I see. Still, a commendable feat. I admire your skill…and your dedication,” Rider said, taking one last look at Saber, “we’ll fight again, Saber. Next time, it’ll be to the finish.”

“Ah, wait! Before you leave…”

The dragoon cocked an eyebrow, beckoning Lucina to continue.

“If you don’t mind me asking…what is your wish?”

There was a pause, as Minerva turned away, slowly fading from sight.

“I just want to know…if I made the right choice.”

* * *

“ _Quite the show our Servants put on tonight. Wouldn’t you agree?_ ”

“ _Secret’s out, I guess._ ”

“ _Ho ho…you don’t sound too displeased by this setback._ ”

“ _It was going to happen sooner or later. Besides, Lucina is more than capable of defeating any Servant in this war._ ”

“ _Rather bold statement, Master of Saber. I suppose it’s up to Rider shall challenge this claim at a later date._ ”

A crafty smile rose to Gracia’s face. She just had to keep this man talking…

“ _It’s a shame you didn’t come watch. These types of battles are far more interesting viewed in person._ ”

“ _Ho ho…and how do you figure that?_ ”

“ _As if you’d need to. A bounded field like that, impressive as it is, is set up with runes, which you could have given to your Servant to lay out in advance. If you were actually here, you’d have made sure to cover the lower floors when the fight got…explosive._ ”

“ _Interesting…_ ”

“ _Plus, your telepathic abilities are impressive- you don’t need to be nearby to converse like this. In short…you’re hiding somewhere._ ”

The enemy Master went silent, but the woman knew he was still paying attention- and she was onto him.

“ _Hiding- yeah. Or perhaps you can’t move. But I’ll save the conjecture for later. Rune magecraft is rare, and someone with your level of skills is all the rarer. Locating, eliminating the possibility of witnesses…techniques useful in assassination work._ ”

“ _Ah…did I show too much of my hand?_ ”

“ _Now, there is someone from this island who fits the bill…a killer, or rather, a member of a team of killers- but he’d have to be well over a hundred years old by now. Perhaps that’s why you can’t move?_ ” Gracia said, “ _in that case, you’re likely holed up in your manor…no doubt, protected by various intricately constructed bounded fields._ ”

“ _Ho ho…_ ”

“ _Edward Falkenburg. A master locator, former member of the Red Brand…_ ”

“ _I applaud your deductive reasoning…and your knowledge. I was only well known in select circles, back in the day. But even knowing this, how will you find me?_ ”

Gracia let out a dry, forced chuckle, formulating her next plan.

“ _I won’t have to._ ”

* * *

_Forests…_

_Mountains…_

_Rivers…_

_Where was this?_

_Horses tearing through open plains, swords clashing, arrows flying-_

_A battle. An unfamiliar battle, in an unknown place._

_Most of the fighting was near a castle, but one lone man had gone past it-_

_Marth. In his hand, a rapier- not a divine sword._

_He seemed to be expecting someone; from the shadows, a paladin rode into view._

_Camus. In his hand, Gradivus, the spear of divine rending._

_They’d exchanged words already._

_All that was left-_

_Was to fight._

_The prince was skilled, but the paladin was simply better. Marth was driven back, badly wounded despite all his best effort._

_And then-_

_“Marth!”_

_A scream._

_A desperate cry._

_A Pegasus knight- Shiida- charging at Camus, who realises all too late that what he was fighting was no duel._

_They were on the battlefield, and Marth had allies, comrades._

_Friends._

_The paladin was thrown off his steed, having taken the decisive blow._

_Camus was dead._

_Camus-_

“Lancer?!” Felicia gasped, her eyes shooting open. Her chest heaved as she tried catching her breath.

“Master…?”

“What the- where?” she blurted, clutching her head.

“You fell asleep on the way back here. I made sure not to wake you when I carried you inside,” Lancer explained, receiving a cushion to the face.

“Not that! That dream! What the fuck? You di-”

The woman stopped herself, sitting up and looking at her- very much alive- Servant, who sighed, and looked away.

“It seems you’ve seen an…unpleasant moment from my past,” he said, “sorry. Try not to dwell on it too much…”

“Never mind that, just…that was when you…when ‘Camus’ died, right?”

“…Yes. My life ended that day. I woke up in Valentia with no memories, and took the name Zeke- but the amnesia was only temporary. Once I remembered everything, I thought back to my home…the country I was prepared to- and should have- died for.”

Lancer raised a hand to his head. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled the cracked visor off, and met his Master’s stare.

“I fought in three wars, under three different names. I fought for what I believed in- loyalty above all else. And yet…only as Sirius, only when I had no country to fight for, did I have the freedom to choose to fight for what I thought was just. It pained me. I fought for Grust, the country I love- but it chose to ally with evil. I fought for Rigel, for the nation that took me in- then, was forced to turn my spear against my own saviour.”

The paladin turned his hardened gaze to the window, clenching his fist.

“It was selfish of me, but I wanted a clean slate from my past deeds, so I could swear myself, as a knight, to a lord that would fight for a cause that I could believe in…I have no wish to speak of otherwise. I cannot regret my actions- I always fought to the last for the countries I swore myself to. I can only regret the outcomes I faced…and my heart for wavering so.”

The room turned quiet; Lancer had nothing more to say, and Felicia’s mind was spinning, a mixture of the dream and her Servant’s innermost desire upheaving her opinion of him. A burden he never thought to share with anyone, a wish that had brought him here, and his will to fight as a knight.

The mage rose to her feet, approaching her Servant wordlessly. Carelessly, she plucked off her gloves, tossing them aside, displaying her Command Seals.

She hadn’t had to use a single one so far.

“Camus, Zeke, Sirius,” Felicia listed, counting each name with a finger, “…and Lancer. Four names, four wars.”

Her Servant turned to face her, blinking in confusion.

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. Did you not swear yourself to me? I am your Master- your lord, Lancer. And you…” she grinned at her baffled Servant, “you are my knight. It may just be until you place the Fire Emblem in my hands, but until then, your loyalty lies with me. Got it?”

“Ah- of cou-”

“So!” she interrupted, jabbing her finger at Lancer’s mouth, “if you’ve got a problem with me, or my plans, or anything…tell me, okay?”

Once her finger was withdrawn, the Servant spent a moment in a stunned silence.

After that, a kind smile appeared on his face.

“Ah…well, other than your sometimes crude attitude and short temper, I have no qualms about you, Master. You’re an honest, trustworthy person.”

“Crude…?” Felicia grumbled, earning a good natured chuckle from Lancer.

“If I may be so bold…could you tell me your wish?”

“Huh? Oh, that…” she responded, suddenly feeling more than a little self-conscious, “er, well, actually…it’s a bit silly but…something kinda like…world peace…”

The spearman shot Felicia an appraising look, then snorted.

“I suppose I don’t need to tell you how naïve that sounds?”

“Not unless you want me to hit you.”

“Well, all the same, it’s an admirable desire,” Lancer conceded, “and I will continue fighting for you with honour, as your knight. Once your wish is granted…perhaps I will finally feel at peace.”

Felicia’s cheeks flared, matching her hair colour; she returned the paladin’s smile with a cheerful one of her own anyway, seeing no need to disguise her embarrassment.

“Let’s win this, Lancer. Together.”

* * *

Adelina had ended up taking a nap of her own, and by the time she woke up, Guardian had left the shrine. Jaffar wasn’t in sight, either, but she could tell he was still in the area, no doubt keeping watch.

Even with an appropriated cloak, the forest was especially cold at night; the drawback of choosing here as her hiding place. But she didn’t regret it- she just had to bear with it for the time being.

In a deep part of the forest like this, Assassin had plenty of cover, and during the day, very little sunlight poked through the dense mass of leaves and branches above. Prefect conditions for him, should any aggressors find their way there.

Of course, her companion had reassured her that nobody had followed them or been nearby when they entered the forest, so they were effectively off the radar…for now.

As a temporary measure, it was fine, but sooner or later they’d have to take action. Felicia’s ceasefire agreement was a weight off the teen’s shoulders, but other Masters were unlikely to be as agreeable. One had already tried to claim her life…

“Shoot. I should have asked Miss Clementine if she knew her,” Adelina muttered, thinking back on that traumatic night. One wrong step would have been her end- even from just one glance, it was obvious that woman had no qualms about killing a child.

…Whose Master was she, anyway?

Archer’s Master was Harold, who had vanished from his hotel room. Caster’s Master was Kerry, who looked anything but prepared for this war. Felicia had Lancer, so that just left Saber and Rider; Adelina had met both, but had no idea who their Masters were.

She let out a yawn, which prevented her from immediately reacting to the arrow that zipped past her shoulder, embedding itself in the statue behind her.

“Ah-” the girl yelped, as Assassin dashed to her side in alarm.

“Are you unharmed?”

“Y-yeah, just shaken…that was Archer, right?”

“…That was a warning shot. He must still be outside the forest. Find cover,” Assassin said, “I’ll take him on.”

Adelina nodded, running inside the dilapidated old shrine. It was small, and had partially collapsed, but it provided more than sufficient cover for her.

A volley of arrows flew from the trees, this time targeting Assassin; he evaded them with ease, but the constant stream of projectiles prevented him from chasing or locating the assailant. Their accuracy was increasing over time, and Jaffar was forced to intercept several with his daggers, having less room to dodge.

Suddenly, they stopped.

“Assassin!” a voice rang out, “let us fight now, until only one of us remains standing. No running, no interruptions.”

Archer stepped into the clearing with a confident stride, bow at the ready.

“…How did you find us?”

“I’ve got good eyes, Assassin. It’s easy for me to, say, spot a young girl walking alone into a forest, from my vantage point halfway across the city.”

“You waited for Guardian to leave.”

“I didn’t want any interruptions. But that wasn’t the whole reason; it took a while to mobilise my Master this far.”

Assassin raised his daggers, which his foe regarded with an approving smirk, and launched himself forward, pivoting around the initial arrows headed his way. The bowman was swift on his feet also, diving sideways while firing more shots, keeping the close range fighter at bay.

The faster Servant was definitely Jaffar, no doubt about it. No matter what he tried, though, he couldn’t close the distance between them. Innes’ precise aim was second to none, and at this proximity, he could launch arrows at blinding speed.

The fight was going at Archer’s pace- Archer, who’d gone out of his way to sacrifice his class’ advantage to fight in his opponent’s strongest element. He had something to prove; a worthy challenge against a skilled enemy.

Assassin didn’t share those feelings, however. As potent as he recognised Archer to be, his own goal was simply to protect Adelina, at any cost.

At this rate, he’d never get reach the bowman- he needed a new plan. With a smooth backflip, he landed on the head of the statue, vaulting behind it for cover. Against his better judgement, he spared a glance at Adelina- who wisely still hid in the shrine- and noticed another two figures at the edge of the clearing.

Familiar figures. A Morph, and the Master of Caster…but what were they doing here?

Kerry appeared to be using a stick of ice as a crutch, while the Morph watched the bout- specifically, Archer- intently. They didn’t seem to know where Adelina was, nor did they seem to be making any conscious effort to look for her, so Jaffar deemed them safe to ignore for the time being.

As soon as he’d found cover, Archer had stopped letting loose arrows, instead intently watching for any sign of movement. The clearing around the shrine was dimly lit under the sombre light of the moon, ideal conditions for Jaffar’s Noble Phantasm; the Prince of Archery was playing a dangerous game, and he knew it.

He cracked a grin, aiming his bow upward.

Assassin was trying to control the pace of the fight…

“We’ll see about that…” Innes said, firing a bundle of arrows into the sky.

The projectiles fell to the earth like rain, randomly striking a wide area on and behind the dragon statue. Even without knowing Assassin’s position, Archer could drive him back into the open, and land a more precise shot the moment he showed himself.

But Jaffar’s actions weren’t rational- and as soon as he saw arrows in the vicinity of Adelina’s hiding place, he rushed to intercept them in the air.

It was a costly move.

Archer spared no thought as he took the opportunity. Moments later, his foe took an arrow to the shoulder, slamming to the ground, but picking himself up quick enough to dodge the following arrows.

Before Innes could react, Assassin sprinted towards him, tearing the arrow out of his shoulder. The bowman stumbled back, firing another arrow; Jaffar took it in his stride, raising his arm to block it and barely flinching as it landed squarely in his forearm. With a strained grunt, he ducked, reaching out and grabbing the aggressor, slamming him to the ground.

The Nidhogg vanished in Innes’ hand. In its place, he held arrows, thrusting them at his enemy, who swiftly cut one in half and jammed his dagger against the bowman’s throat.

Adelina was watching.

With wide eyes, she saw her companion- her friend- moments away from slicing a man’s throat, ending the life of Archer.

The dagger didn’t move.

Guardian was right. Jaffar was unable to kill in front of Adelina-

Rather, he couldn’t expose her to death. He was protecting her, not just from the risk of her own death, but the death of anyone.

She wasn’t just a young girl- she was an innocent, pure child, who’d lived a sheltered life until now.

Jaffar wanted to protect that. He wanted to protect everything about this girl- a light in his dark world.

Here was the Angel of Death, protecting a child from the concept of _death_ itself…

It would mean nothing, however, if her life was in peril. And so-

An arrow was planted in his throat; Archer had taken the brief hesitation, and fought back by bringing up his fist holding his intact, makeshift close range weapon.

“A killer, lacking a drive to kill?” Innes murmured, as he threw Assassin off him, getting to his feet, “well, I can’t pretend I know your circumstances…but that was a costly mistake. You almost won, though, so in any case, I applaud your skill.”

“Ade…lina…”

“It was a good fight,” Archer took out his bow, aiming at his rival’s heart, “I know of none trained killers as respectable as you. Now, rest. Your war is over…”

The final arrow was fired, claiming Jaffar’s life.

No sounds followed. Archer respectfully regarded Assassin, who faded into the wind with dignity- but clear regret.

Adelina was silent, tears rising to her eyes. One by one, they streaked down her face, until she covered her mouth to disguise her restrained wails. As her Command Seals faded, and her connection to her companion was severed, she could only cry, with no awareness to the immediate danger in her vicinity.

“Whoa…” Kerry said, limping forward with his crutch alongside Stella, “that was…awesome.”

“Yes…I didn’t expect you to handle close range combat, Archer,” the Morph added.

“Any bowman with half a mind would train for the worst-case scenarios. My technique doesn’t even begin to qualify as Close Counter- the ability to use a bow unhindered, no matter the range. With that skill, one could match up with the likes of Saber or Lancer in direct combat. Unfortunately, though, I’ll have to deal with them the traditional way.”

Innes shrugged, then narrowed his eyes, “I hold no shame in saying that could have gone either way.”

“I feel like we have a chance of winning, with you on our side,” his Master said, earning a dry chuckle.

“Of course you do. And now we’ve cleared one obstacle, we’re one step closer to the Emblem,” Archer said, before indicating the girl by the shrine, “now, how to handle this…?”

Looking between his Servant- a tall, regal man, who’d just finished killing Assassin- and Stella- a girl with eerie, unfriendly eyes- Kerry let out a sigh.

“Yeah, I think I’ll take this one.”

Slowly- not by choice- he made his way to the girl, whose tears had slowed, her eyes now red.

“So, er, hey, uh-”

Adelina looked up with open hostility and terror, screaming, “stay away!”

“H-hang on…” Kerry tried soothing her, but the girl turned and ran into the deep blackness of the forest, leaving the young man gaping numbly.

“Oh, _sure_ ,” he said loudly, throwing up his free arm, “run away from the crippled guy! Real classy!”

He turned to look at Archer imploringly, who turned to see where Adelina had run to, a grin etched on his face.

“Hm…seems we had a spectator. Excellent.”

“A spectator?” Stella repeated with a frown.

“Yes…a Servant. One I’ve been dying to see for a while…”

* * *

Adelina ran-

Where?

Adelina ran-

Why?

Adelina ran-

How?

Adelina ran, near blind in the pitch black forest; the cold, empty darkness was so cruel, so merciless without her friend to guide the way.

She was alone. There was nowhere she could hide, and no one to protect her.

Stumbling on something she couldn’t see, the girl fell face-first to the ground. But she hardly felt any pain. Her mind was blank.

What reason was there to get up?

What reason was there to continue?

“Is this…what death is?”

Assassin was gone- he’d never come back, he’d never talk to her again. And that face he’d made, at the very end…

“Do you fear death, girl?” a stern voice, one she faintly recognised.

“Yes. Oh, yes, I do…”

“Good. That means you value your life…”

Adelina was pulled to her feet roughly, coming face to face with a woman clad in red.

“R-rider?”

“I seem to recall rescuing you before…what’s your name, cleric?”

“I…I’m Adelina. I’m- I was…Assassin’s, uhm…Master.”

“Adelina, hm? Stay behind me for a moment,” Rider instructed, stepping in front of her, her gaze fixed on a figure coming into view.

“Rider…it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Archer greeted.

“Hmph. I hope you’re not seriously trying to hunt down this girl.”

“What’s it to you? Even without her Servant, she’s still a Master recognised by the Emblem- surely your altruism is misplaced, protecting a potential threat like her?”

Minerva took a glance at the girl in question; covered in dirt, swollen red eyes, dejectedly looking at the ground-

“You’ve got some nerve, calling her a threat,” she spat, “now, leave. If you continue to threaten her, I will be forced to take action.”

Her axe materialised, reinforcing the threat as it glowed with an otherworldly aura. When Archer clicked his tongue, and made no move, Rider took Adelina by the hand, gently tugging her over to her wyvern.

“Come. I’ll take you to safety,” she said, “this might not be comfortable, but we won’t be in the air long.”

Helping the despondent girl onto the beast, the dragoon shot a glare at the other Servant before climbing on herself.

“Huh? She’s- she’s getting away?!” Kerry yelled, limping into view as the wyvern took flight.

“Rider is too destructive for me to take head on. We’ll have to concede here,” Archer said, gritting his teeth in irritation, “it’s just a minor setback. I could fight her freely if I didn’t have to cover you, so you’ll have to find somewhere to hide with the…with Stella.”

“Dammit.”

“Relax, Master. Tonight was a net win for us…and now I have a golden opportunity to challenge Rider.”

In the air, neither of the beast’s passengers spoke until they reached the boundary of the forest.

“The church is a sanctuary for Servantless Masters, as I’m sure you’re aware. I’ll drop you off-”

“N-no, please don’t!” Adelina exclaimed.

“Hm?”

“My uncle will…kill me, probably…”

Minerva scowled with venom at the very thought.

“Despicable man. Very well…is there anywhere else you’d feel safe?”

The girl shook her head.

“I see. Then I’ll take you back to my Master’s manor. He won’t object, I assure you.”

“…Why are you helping me…?” a whisper of a defeated girl.

“Standing by and letting the defenceless, the weak, get captured or killed would be a stain on my honour as a Heroic Spirit. I cannot abide those who exploit the weakness of others.”

When no response came, Rider continued, “my sister was a cleric. She was imprisoned, and made a hostage in order to secure my compliance. I was made to fight for the dastards I detested…my dear sister, a little girl like you, lived in hell for such a petty reason…”

The buildings beneath them became more densely clustered. Minerva eased her mount northward before continuing.

“But, Adelina, you are a woman of the church. Surely you know better than anyone that you don’t need a reason to help others?”

A small nod.

And then…

“Assassin…taught me that. Not my uncle. Jaffar saved me, and protected me, all because he wanted to,” Adelina said, “Guardian said he was called the Angel of Death…but…to me...”

She looked up, tears in her eyes again- but now, sporting her first little smile since Assassin’s death.

“He was my guardian angel.”

* * *

Saber curiously peered at the object in her Master’s hands, which the woman was carefully picking apart, fiddling and every so often grunting at.

It was a drone, one of Felicia Clementine’s; Saber was surprised to learn Gracia had kept the one she’d found on hand, but she was the type to prepare for an eventuality like this.

Only, the Servant didn’t know why she was taking it apart- just that it seemed important.

“Y’know, hovering around my shoulders isn’t very helpful, Saber.”

“O-oh, sorry…”

“If you’re so curious, just ask. Get it off your chest.”

“…What are you doing, Master?” Lucina asked.

“I’m glad you asked,” Gracia responded dryly, “thanks to your fight with Rider, I managed to determine the identity of her Master. Now, admittedly, I don’t know where the Falkenburg estate is- but Clementine does, so I’ll use her to find it.”

“Use her…?”

“Yes. I’m trying to reprogram this drone so it’ll scurry back to Clementine with a little message attached. I’m fairly confident she’ll take the bait.”

Gracia was done with her explanation, but Saber wasn’t done with her questions.

“Are you…disappointed in me?”

“Hm?” the mage looked puzzled until she looked at her Servant, “oh, the mask. A bit of a shame, but you did well in that fight. Rider retreated; you were both in bad shape, but she lost her advantage, and spent a great deal more mana than you did.”

Turning back to drone, Gracia continued, “there’s nothing you could really do about the outcome of that battle. It’s nice to see that you can perform well, even with your instinct shut down.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a Heroic Spirit if I used Naga’s gift as a crutch.”

“Naga’s gift, hm? I suppose you could call the Fire Emblem one of her gifts also.”

After airing that thought, the woman fell silent again, concentrating on the work in front of her. It took ten minutes before she was satisfied; once the drone was pieced back together, she pocketed it, and glanced at her Servant from the corner of her eye.

“You look like you’re dying to ask me something else.”

Lucina sheepishly made eye contact.

“Well, you mentioned the Fire Emblem, and it reminded me…” she said, “I don’t know your wish, Master.”

“My wish?”

Gracia pondered the thought, leaning back in her chair, looking up at the ceiling.

“…Why not? It doesn’t make a difference anyway,” she shrugged, “actually, it’s a very similar wish to yours.”

“Huh…?”

“A place to belong. Only, in my case…I need a person to belong with.”

Saber could only stare in disbelief, allowing Gracia to continue, “you see, I really want to know what it feels like to care about someone. To love, or to hate. I don’t mind which- anything will do. I’m just tired of the apathy I hold for…well, everyone I’ve ever met.”

“Apathy…?”

“Without fail. My parents, associates, targets- even my own child. Honestly, it’s a living nightmare. What a monster I am, to look a baby that grew in my own womb…and to feel nothing.”

A humourless smile spread to her face.

“There must be someone in the world I can feel something for. So that’s what I’ll ask the Emblem. Find me that someone- and give us a peaceful world, where we belong. Pragmatically speaking, everyone else in the world will be…extraneous, and antithetical to the peace I wish for, so the Emblem will likely have them erased. That’s fine, though. I’ll have all I want, by that time.”

“Wh-what are you…”

“I’m sure you can relate. Not knowing your place in the world…it’s a dreadful existence, isn’t it?” Gracia said, starting to exit the room, “in any event, we’ve got a lot of work to do before then. I’m gonna send this…message. You still need to locate Archer- you’re still cursed, so he must still be alive.”

Stunned speechless, Lucina could only watch the woman leave; casually, almost brazenly, as though she hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary.

“Later, Saber. Happy hunting,” Gracia said, not looking back.


	13. Day Eight

- _The Boundary of All Worlds_ -

Another battlefield.

Bodies of the fallen strewn all over. Discarded and broken weapons as far as the eye could see.

For some soldiers, this was normal.

For some warriors, this was life.

For Lucina-

This was everything.

Day after day, night after night, one war to the next.

Her Falchion- a memento of her dear father- had been blessed with a special property, from the moment she led her comrades to the past.

A gift from Naga.

A key to time.

Falchion, the Parallel Blade, the Noble Phantasm of Lucina; one which bestowed her with instincts far beyond what any mortal should be capable of. It granted her visions of the future. Any immediate threats- she could see them before they happened.

Her aging was stalled, as a price for the gift. For it was…

A key to time.

After Grima’s defeat in the past, she and her comrades tried settling down. Living with their parents of the past, living alone, venturing the world-

But they were displaced people.

They had no home. No place to belong.

Their own era was in ruin.

So, with her sword creating a path, Lucina led her comrades to the Outrealm-

To another world-

They scattered, all in search of a new home.

A place to belong…

In her travels, from era to era, world to world, Lucina took up arms, fighting in conflicts in the name of peace and justice. She couldn’t ignore the plight of the innocent, no matter where she went.

And so, she fought.

Every day, every night.

With the hope that, at the end, she’d find a home for herself, and her comrades…

She fought.

Day after day.

Night after night.

One war to the next-

She wore a mask, claiming to be ‘Marth’, just like she’d done before. ‘Marth’ became an even greater legend across all lands, and all times.

In her hand, the sword of light-

A key to time.

She fought in so many wars. Past, present, and future.

She saw the endless struggle, the infinite cycle of humans, dragonkind, and all else in every world. Every era had so many wars…

She fought. She bled.

One era to the next…

She travelled. She saved lives.

She fought.

With the hope, that at the end, all the fighting would end…

And she’d find a place to belong.

* * *

- _Day Eight_ -

Felicia was locked in deep thought, drone in hand, when Lancer entered the room and presented her requested breakfast. She had an uncharacteristically troubled look on her face as she regarded the object she held.

“Is something the matter?” the paladin inquired.

“…Yeah. This crawled up to our doorstep…” Felicia’s lips tightened, “no traps, no outgoing signals, not even any signs of magecraft. Nothing. Just a message.”

“Message?”

“A single word- Falkenburg.”

The woman leant forward, placing the drone beside her, steepling her fingers in consideration.

“It’s a little worrying, honestly. I’m being played with, read like an open book.”

“I don’t understand- what is the significance of ‘Falkenburg’?”

Felicia shot an annoyed glare at her Servant, and sighed.

“A mage family…or formerly so, anyway. They’ve made this island their home for about two hundred years. They’ve fallen on hard times- just one survivor is left now. Edward’s his name,” she explained, “pretty sure he spent most of his life as an assassin with a bunch of friends, and only retired when they all kicked the bucket. The dude’s over a century old, now.”

“And now he’s been…implicated as a Master?”

“I don’t like it. I forgot all about him, but if he is alive, then there’s a very high chance he is a Master. That’s not the problem, though…”

When she trailed off, Lancer frowned, trying to work out what she was getting at.

“In short,” he said, “another Master knows enough about you to assume that these drones are yours, and you know where Falkenburg may be?”

“…Yeah.”

“It’s admittedly worrisome, but surely this is something you expected, no? You’re infamous in the Association, and your status as a Clementine would indicate you’d know where a mage family on this island lives…”

Though she didn’t look reassured, Felicia got out of her seat, and came to a decision.

“…Let’s go. We can’t ignore this information, no matter where it may have come from.”

* * *

The room was small, cosy, and warm. There wasn’t much inside, aside from a comfy armchair and a couple of bookshelves; the only way in or out was the sliding bookcase, which led to the master of household.

Edward Falkenburg.

He seemed fine with Adelina’s presence, having Rider direct her to the secret saferoom adjoined to his as he spoke with the Servant on the circumstances of the previous night. The girl appreciated the hospitality, but her own company wasn’t what she wanted right now.

She was alone.

And when she was alone, she was powerless.

Adelina struggled to take her mind away from the fresh wave of awful memories, and instead attempted to preoccupy herself by investigating the books lining the room around her. Most of them seemed to be tomes- fire and lightning elements, mainly.

Part of her wished she a light tome to study and familiarise herself with.

Soon, Rider entered the room, faintly amused at the sight of the short girl standing on her tip toes to scrutinise a higher shelf.

“Adelina.”

“O-oh! Rider! Uhm, hello,” the cleric responded, flustered at having been caught in the act, “sorry, I was just- well…”

“It’s an interesting collection, isn’t it? My Master prides himself on it more than his own magecraft, or so I understand,” Minerva said, “and speaking of him…if you need something, just say- he’ll be listening. But try not to leave this room if you can help it.”

“Okay…that seems fair enough.”

“Edward is going to boost my mana supply with a Command Seal. After that, I’ll be heading out to deal with Archer.”

Adelina nodded, falling silent at the mention of the Servant who’d taken Assassin’s life.

“Well, Edward can keep you updated, if you ask,” Rider said, “for now, though, you should be safe here. There may be little comfort to be had, but take some time for yourself…”

“…Thank you.”

Quietly, the girl took a seat, half expecting the Servant to leave.

Instead, she received a firm but gentle hand the shoulder. No further words were exchanged, and once the dragoon was sure that Adelina was okay- or, as okay as she could be in this situation- she left the room.

Time passed.

The former Master decided to do something she hadn’t done for a while. She knelt, and prayed to the divine dragon she’d dedicated her life to. She missed this habit- it was cleansing, relieving, and an important part of her.

Where would Naga’s light guide her next?

“…Right. Maybe I should start thinking about what I’ll do after the war…” she muttered.

“ _Ho! A good attitude indeed, young lady!_ ”

The young lady in question yelped, falling backwards. As she nursed her behind, she realised the voice was just Edward, speaking telepathically.

“ _Did I startle you? Ho ho! My apologies, Adelina Scheuer._ ”

“N-no, it’s fine, Mister Falkenburg…”

“ _Please, call me Edward._ ”

Adelina was about to nod, but realised Edward wouldn’t be able to see it, and instead sat down feeling mildly self-conscious.

“So, uhm…Mister Edward,” she said, “not to be rude, but…wouldn’t it be easier to keep an eye on me if we were in the same room?”

“ _Not at all. I have a separate bounded field at work in there compared to the rest of this manor. It allows me to hear what you say, in case you need my attention- like now. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tailor the room to suit your tastes, so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with what’s there- or settle for chatting with this old coot! Ho ho!_ ”

“But…” Adelina frowned, “uh, wouldn’t you be able to just…directly talk to me if I was in the same room as you?”

“ _That is impossible, my dear._ ”

“Huh? Why?”

“ _I am old. So, very old. My life is nearly at an end; by participating in this war, I am gambling the last vestiges of my lifespan in order to soothe my lasting regret. Supplying a Servant like Rider with mana is an immense strain on me…so, to ensure I do not pass away before the war’s end, I have suspended my body- aside from my mind._ ”

“Suspended?”

“ _I cannot see. I cannot hear. I cannot speak. In short, my magecraft- and my Servant- are my eyes and ears._ ”

For a fourteen-year-old like Adelina, the amount of dedication and perseverance Edward was showing was beyond her. She could admire him- but not truly understand him.

“Er, so,” she said, after some time had passed, “how old are you, anyway?”

She felt guilty for asking, especially when he didn’t immediately respond.

But those fears were ungrounded, for Edward’s reply was as jovial as ever.

“ _Why, just last month I turned 140! Ho ho ho!_ ”

* * *

As a certain motorbike slowed to a halt, and its engine was cut, its driver took a moment to appreciate the quiet streets of the northern district, even more peaceful than usual due to the recent unrest in the city.

For Felicia, it was home. But any comfort or familiarity she could have drawn from it was dashed by the eeriness of the empty streets; a liminal space, created by the very war she was participating in.

“Ah, geez. Better make this quick…”

Hopping off the vehicle, the woman craned her head to evaluate her surroundings, clicking her tongue upon feeling the chilly breeze. Fortunately, she’d remembered a scarf, which held a special heating property-

“Fuck…I forgot my scarf.”

Unfortunately, without the scarf, she was doomed to shiver while checking her digital watch currently showing a roadmap.

“Alrighty, Lancer, make sure you’re following close,” Felicia said to the air.

“ _You’re not taking the bike the rest of the way?_ ”

“Nah. Too many finicky movements to make from here on.”

She began briskly walking, checking the map every so often, making faces in reaction to the biting cold.

“I know _where_ the Falkenburg manor is,” she started saying, mostly to take her mind off the temperature, “and that’s pretty vital, since the bounded field around his house extends around…a mile, or so.”

“ _That’s fairly vast. What does it do?_ ”

“Well, unless you know where it is, and how to get there, you won’t be able to find it. The bounded field makes it so that you get redirected away, or you just straight up miss it.”

“ _…Are you sure you know how to get there?_ ”

“Wh- of course I do!” a flustered response, coupled with Felicia glancing at the watch again.

“ _Your actions betray your words, I feel._ ”

“Y’know, just because I gave you permission to speak your mind, doesn’t mean you get to be a smartass.”

“ _Haha! My apologies, Master. But please, do tell me why you require this map if you already know the way there._ ”

The mage shot a filthy look at the air behind her, then rolled her eyes.

“I’m just gunning for absolute certainty here. His property isn’t shown on any contemporary roadmaps, but I know where it should be on them; so long as I have a route to get there, we should make it…”

Pausing to sneeze a few times, Felicia continued with a pointed look, “and as long as you stick close, and have some level of confidence that we’ll get there, you’ll be able to enter with me. Got it?”

“ _…Got it._ ”

The two- one visible, one not- continued navigating the streets, unaware that they were being followed; their stalker, eyeing the redhead mage from behind any cover she could find, her light footsteps making no sounds.

Gracia Alcott was a master of tailing her targets. Like a hunter, or a predator; her prey would never escape her sight, no matter the distance she chose to follow from. Not even Lancer had any inkling they were being followed. Her cold, narrowed eyes were fixed on Felicia, giving her no room to escape or shake the assassin off her tail.

She knew she could reach the Falkenburg manor-

Because she knew Felicia would lead her to it-

Because she knew Felicia. 

* * *

- _10 Years Ago_ -

Grumbling with little regard for her surroundings, Felicia Clementine stomped through the streets of Nagilis until she reached a quaint, unsuspecting old house, in the outskirts of the city. It was late, and no public transport was running, but she was on orders from her father to deal with this task as soon as possible…

It was probably meant to be a chance to show off her skills, and prove her worth, but it came off more as her father offloading work onto her.

This old house wasn’t at all out of place- for a regular person, anyway. For a mage, though, the lazily constructed bounded field was a dead giveaway that this was where she was meant to be.

The Mage’s Association had marked this target for sealing, and since this city- and island- was Clementine turf, someone bearing that noble name had to take out the trash.

What tripe. Couldn’t she at least do it after a good night’s sleep?

As Felicia deliberated on how she should tackle the bounded field- she was leaning towards ‘bombard it with fire’- an unfamiliar woman approached her position, and stopped mere feet away. The red haired mage stared at this newcomer- could she be her target’s accomplice?

The woman had a serious expression on her attractive face; her blonde hair was tied up into a ponytail, resting on her shoulder, and her pale skin seemingly glowed under the streetlamps-

“What?”

Felicia realised she’d been staring a little too hard, and turned away to hide her blush.

“N-nothing!” she said, attempting to hide how flustered she was, “w-what business do you have here?”

“Same as you, likely.”

Felicia slowly turned back to face her, now with a fresh scowl; that hadn’t been the answer she wanted.

“Well, I’ve got it covered, so you don’t need to bother,” she said, “who are you, anyway?”

The woman returned the Clementine heir’s suspicious glare with an inscrutable look.

“Gracia. You’re a Clementine, right?”

Felicia nodded slowly.

“…Well, you can step back, Grace. A mage of my calibre should be more than enough for this job.”

Gracia’s eyebrow faintly twitched as soon as she heard ‘Grace’.

“Please. I’ve heard enough about your magecraft. I don’t know about you, but I’m here to dispose of the target, not destroy this neighbourhood.”

The Clementine heir tilted her head, scorn in her eyes.

“…What are you implying?”

“I don’t care how powerful you think you are. Let a professional handle this.”

“A pro, huh? Alright, miss big-shot assassin, let’s hear your grand suggestion, then.”

Gracia stepped past Felicia, stopping directly in front of the bounded field.

“It’s simple. I can lure him out. And then finish him in one go. The end.”

“Yuh-huh…”

“You don’t need to be here, really. But if it’ll make you feel better, you can take credit for it. I get paid either way.”

Felicia began grinding her teeth.

“As if I need help from you!”

“I’m ensuring my job gets done. That’s all-”

“Oh, shut up!”

In a heartbeat, the red haired mage added, “…Grace!”

Gracia turned her head to glance back the grouchy Clementine, who was biting back insults, flames dancing around her hand.

“…So that’s how you want to play, is it?”

“Yeah. Bring it on, dipshit.”

Felicia raised her hand, a challenging grin on her face, as the blonde mage glowered at her opponent-

A loud crash alerted the two of them; shards of glass from the target’s hideaway flew at them, and Felicia readied her magic to defend herself.

But before she could even begin, she was staring wide-eyed at Gracia, who had pulled out a pistol, and shot the target in the head in one clean motion.

The glass fell and shattered harmlessly on the road, and Gracia shrugged, walking away from the scene.

“H-hey! Wait a minute!”

The woman paused.

“What?”

“What the fuck was that? Where are you going?”

“My job is done. Again, feel free to take credit for it. I’ll leave you to clean up this mess, Clementine,” the mysterious assassin said, without turning around. Felicia surveyed the scene she’d been left with; this was exactly the part she hadn’t been looking forward to.

“My name is _Felicia_!” she called out to the assassin’s back.

“…And mine is Gracia.” 

* * *

- _Day Eight_ -

“Any moment now…”

Archer had kept a close watch of Rider for as long as he could the previous night. He knew her base- or at least, wherever she was keeping Adelina- was in the north end of the city. There was a chance she could go on foot to another location, but since it was in her best interest to get rid of the bowman as soon as possible…

The dragoon knew Archer would come after her if she flew out into the open, so she’d likely appear as soon as she was ready.

Innes had enough tactical awareness to predict this; he could almost imagine what was going through Rider’s mind.

_I have something you want, so come and get me._

Of course, his objective was clear. Retrieval of the girl was top priority, as it meant antagonising an enemy enough into fighting him, and possibly healing his new Master. For now, he’d advised Kerry to hang around in the forest until he delivered Adelina to him, and after that, he and Stella could track down some enemy Masters.

The boy wasn’t a mage, but the Morph was powerful- and both had enough motivation to make themselves useful.

Innes felt a rising thrill permeate his very being; he had tough fights ahead, and he was ready to prove himself. Not to his Master, but to the world. And, at the end of the war, Kerry would get his wish- one that Archer respected, and acknowledged as worthy.

“At last…you’ve come to play,” the Servant muttered, clutching his bow as Rider came into view, ascending above the city.

“Considering my opponent…I’ll need to soften her up before starting the real assault.”

Patience was key here. All the bowman had to do was keep her on edge, keep his location hidden, and change position often. Taking the fight to the city may prove advantageous also, since his options were far more open there than his enemy’s.

Of course, it was game over if he was caught. Rider possessed the power to wipe him out with a single blow. He had to be extremely cautious.

“…Fine with me. Let’s do this.”

His gaze was locked squarely on the wyvern and the figure on its back.

* * *

“Well? What’d I tell you?”

“ _…I don’t seem to sense a Servant here._ ”

Felicia clicked her tongue when Lancer ignored her smug statement of victory, but nevertheless kicked the gate to the Falkenburg estate open. As soon as she walked into the boundary, she whistled in admiration.

“Whew, impressive. This bounded field must have some history to it. I can practically breathe the magical energy…”

The manor was large, with thick vines covering its old fashioned exterior. Felicia could feel it- it was almost perfect for any given mage. The mystery, the history, the isolated air…

“ _Have you been here before, Master?_ ” Lancer inquired; he seemed to have some curiosity about the place.

“Uh…not that I remember. Maybe my dad took me here as a kid…but he definitely did teach me where this place is,” Felicia said, casting her eyes upward for a moment as she added, “thanks, old man, I guess.”

They approached the front door, with the mage examining it suspiciously before kicking it open.

“ _That seems to be a habit of yours…_ ”

“It’s _very_ stress relieving. But more importantly, there’s a chance the door handle is a trap in some fashion. Perhaps not one to harm, but one that could rope me into some kind of illusion.”

“ _How do you mean?_ ”

“Uh, like, it could trigger a mechanism, or change what I see in this first room,” the mage said as she stepped into the main hall, “or something that could fuck with my mind. I dunno- it was just some precaution. The problem is, magical energy here is so thick in the air, it’d be hard to tell where any traps are anyway.”

She frowned, and gave the bounded field some thought.

“Lancer…materialise for me.”

The Servant obediently came into view, an eyebrow raised but asking no questions. Felicia nodded at the sight, then turned her attention to her hands, snapping her fingers a few times and letting a small flame dance around her fingertips.

“I thought so…this bounded field is hell. It severely weakens all kinds of magecraft,” the woman grumbled, “good thing I brought you along. Ready to tear up the place?”

“ _Ho ho! I wouldn’t be so hasty, dear Miss Clementine._ ”

“There it is…Edward Falkenburg, right?”

“ _The very same. Perhaps I should have known a visit from you was coming…_ ”

“So? Who is your Servant? Rider, the Red Dragoon, or Saber, King of Heroes himself?”

“ _Ho ho ho! I’m afraid I don’t know of any Hero-King in this war, but Rider is certainly my Servant. She’s currently occupied elsewhere; if Lancer wishes to resume their battle, it’ll have to wait, I’m afraid._ ”

Felicia crossed her arms, pursing her lips. Lancer, privy to the conversation, shrugged at the mention of the duel.

“Unfortunately, Master of Rider,” he said, “I won’t be losing any sleep should my Master decide to remove you from this war, here and now. Inconclusive battles mean little to me; I only fight when necessary.”

“…There you have it. I only have to give him the order, and he can bring down the entire manor.”

Silence filled their minds as Edward considered the trigger happy Master and the compliant Servant she’d brought with her.

“ _Ho ho. Very well. How about a deal, Felicia Clementine?_ ”

“A deal?”

“ _Yes…my manor is full of priceless items. It would be such a shame to let you bring destruction to them. So, provided you don’t damage anything, I am willing to offer you my aid…if you can find me, that is._ ”

Felicia looked incredulous, but ultimately took interest in the offer.

“…Aid?”

“ _I will tell you where Saber’s Master is._ ”

Saber’s Master…the last unknown element of the war.

“Oh, fine. Guess there’s no choice but to play by your rules,” the woman said, grinning, “I just have to find you, right?”

“ _Yes, that’s all. Ho ho…_ ”

With a determined fire in her eyes, Felicia placed her hands on her hips, assessing where to start. There were five doors in the main hall- two on the upper floor, three on the lower.

“Shall we split up?” Lancer suggested.

“…No. I need your high magic resistance in close proximity…just in case.”

“Right. So I’ve been relegated to ‘meat shield’, have I?”

“What, you got a problem with that?”

Approaching the leftmost door on the ground floor, the mage stopped short of forcing it open, and gave a silent indication to her Servant, who carefully opened it. After giving the room ahead a look, he turned to his Master and nodded.

Felicia peaked inside, balefully staring at the ceiling-high bookshelves, forming a corridor in front of her.

“The hell is this, a library? Who needs this many books?”

“I believe these are tomes, Master.”

“Geh. No wonder this place reeks of magical energy…”

Lancer took point, leading the way in the narrow space between shelves until they reached a turn; around this corner, the sight that met the two was the same, a dizzying array of tomes neatly ordered in a spectrum.

Green row, red row, yellow row, blue row, white row-

“This is driving me nuts,” Felicia grumbled, as they followed the path further in, each turn holding the same view. It was a nauseating display; even Lancer was struggling to keep his bearings, the deeper they went.

It was a maze. One designed to make each straight look exactly the same, to disorientate anyone unfortunate to wander in.

“Hey, Falkenburg. What’s the deal?”

“ _Enjoying my collection, hm?_ ”

“I didn’t even know this many tomes existed in the world anymore…”

“ _Ho ho! This collection is the pride of the Falkenburg name…_ ” Edward said merrily, his telepathy as invasive as ever, “ _would you like to know how long it took your father to navigate this maze?_ ”

“You put my old man through this shit?”

Felicia slumped against her Servant for support as she took a few deep breaths.

“Well, I don’t care how long it took him. I’m coming to wring your neck, buddy, and it’s going to happen very soon.”

“ _Ho…try not to push yourself too hard, dear Felicia._ ”

“Can it, dustbag. I’d still take this over listening to the priest speak.”

Back to standing unsupported, Master and Servant pressed on through the maze.

* * *

“Well? What’d I tell you?”

The voice of Gracia Alcott echoed through the empty hall as she entered the wide open front door.

“ _Never did I expect you to use Felicia Clementine. Impressive work indeed. But now that you’re here, the real challenge has begun…and unfortunately, dear Felicia won’t be able to guide you this time._ ”

The assassin walked up the stairs while her eyes were drawn back to the front door and the wall around it. As she reached the landing, she placed her hand on the nearest door, and shut her eyes in thought.

“How did you get her to play along? She brought Lancer, didn’t she?”

“ _I suppose I should offer the same conditions I did her…it’s simple, really. Should you take care not to damage my priceless treasures, and you manage to find me first, I shall locate any Master you wish to find. Like, perhaps, the new Master of Archer…_ ”

The woman shoved her hands in her pockets, giving it more thought than it needed; the fact that Archer had a new Master was vital information in of itself.

“That is definitely an inviting prospect.”

Gracia regarded the door with renewed interest, and tilted her head with a small grin.

“I doubt it matters too much which door I pick. You wouldn’t be so confident if all that was protecting you was mere probability. Based on the exterior of this manor, there’s at least one floor above here…so, I guess I’m looking for a flight of stairs.”

Her hand hovered over the handle.

“An annoyingly strong magic suppression field, but it won’t stop me doing simple things…”

A spark shot out of her hand, into the handle, which clicked and turned in response. The door creaked open, and Gracia saw what Felicia had seen; a myriad of tomes, from floor to ceiling, and a thin walkway between.

“Ah, I get it now,” she said, casually heading inside, “the bounded field isn’t for intruders…it’s to keep these off the charts, right?”

“ _You are correct. Most of these tomes possess some level of power- hiding them would be impossible without a suppression field._ ”

“Can you use any of them?” Gracia asked, idly turning a corner.

“ _Ho ho! Not quite. That isn’t where my speciality lies, I’m afraid._ ”

“Speciality…? Oh, so you-”

She paused, laughing as comprehension dawned on her.

“…You copy tomes?”

“ _It is an art that few practice in this day and age…one that is a tradition for my lineage. Our study is that of the ancient language that all tomes are written in, the very one that runes are said to originate from. As runes are all that we could use practically- and openly- we’ve never had much status in the Association._ ”

“And if the Association found out about this collection, they’d swarm in…”

“ _And such a shame it is…_ ”

Gracia’s fingers lightly brushed along several rows of tomes, regarding them with minor interest.

“So? Why become an assassin?”

“ _A frivolous venture of my youth, turning into a habit central to my being,_ ” Falkenburg’s sigh was not audible, but Gracia could feel it regardless, “ _in my travels across the world, I acquainted myself with several other likeminded mages, all dissatisfied with the archaic order of our elders._ ”

The woman closed her eyes as the old man projected images with his story. Images of days long gone, remembered by none but himself.

“ _I did not care for the purpose of my lineage, and desired freedom while I could grasp it. I had so much energy, so much passion…and so, my friends and I decided to make the best use of our abilities._ ”

A group of people, younger than Gracia, visualised in her mind-

“ _Have you heard of the Black Fang?_ ”

“Elibe history…yes, they were killers for justice…or so they’d claim.”

“ _We were taken by such tales. Heroes aren’t just the brave lords who lead armies, the noble soldiers who stand for their cause- sometimes, heroes can be the ones who take action before any dark history can be written. Their deeds may be dirty, but the results can lead to a continued peace for all…_ ”

The woman opened her eyes, not thinking much on the sentiment.

“ _I was motivated to refine my magecraft- my runes- and together, we established the Red Brand. I located targets, mages and nonmages alike, guilty of abhorrent sins, and my friends would eliminate them. And then…we started getting hired. We became infamous in the underworld, and our services were used to exterminate the lesser evils._ ”

“A lesser evil is still an evil…so long as that’s what you’re led to believe.”

“ _After several long decades, we were content hunting anyone. It felt as though we had no purpose otherwise…_ ”

“At some point, you must have realised…killing for your idea of ‘justice’ is still killing.”

“ _Yes…our ideals died long before our use did. My friends didn’t live long enough to endure the regret as I did…eventually, I came back here. What a fool I’d been. Magecraft is a gift, no matter where your beliefs lie. We are given this gift by our ancestors, and we have a duty to pass it on to the next generation. To use it as I did…it is the height of hubris._ ”

Gracia had no comment, letting the story continue.

“ _Indeed, my regret is clear. The Fire Emblem is my last chance…my one wish is for a successor to continue the Falkenburg lineage…_ ”

Edward spoke his honest desire, his one wish- his last regret.

Gracia understood the man’s heavy feelings. She understood, but…

It made no difference to her. After all, he was going to die- she was going to send him to hell, letting him rot with the burden of his mistakes.

“ _Why do you kill?_ ”

“Me? Because I’m good at it.”

“ _Ho ho…a familiar answer to me._ ”

“Nobody’s life means anything significant to me. Who am I to care if my target has a wife and child, or has led a virtuous and honest life? Nothing changes for me. I just kill-”

And feel nothing. 

* * *

- _10 Years Ago_ -

Felicia knew this feeling.

It was a kind of displeasure she hadn’t felt for weeks.

She associated it with one thing- no, one person.

So, as she stood in front of what seemed to be a small, cheap apartment, the mage took a deep breath, and sharply knocked on the door.

There was no response. The woman growled.

Another knock.

No response.

Another knock-

“I _will_ blast this door down!” Felicia yelled impatiently. After a couple of moments, the door slowly creaked open, revealing the red haired mage’s current least favourite person in the world.

“Oh. It’s you, Clementine.”

“Yeah. It’s me. Hi, Grace.”

Felicia wore a strained smile to hide her irritation, while Gracia attempted to hide her eye twitch by calmly closing her eyes.

“So? What do you want?”

“I’m here to remind you that if you plan to stay over a week here, you have to let the Association and the Clementine family know, since this is a regulated zone,” Felicia droned half-heartedly, “if you don’t comply, you can be punished, according to-”

“I get it. And?”

“…the hell do you mean, ‘and’?”

“Well, you are part of the Clementine family, are you not? You now know I’m here for over a week. And at least one person in the Association knows that I’m here,” Gracia said, leaning on the apartment’s doorframe, “what else could I need?”

The apartment was a cheap, temporary accommodation in Soldier’s Sanctuary she must have been set up with while dealing with the runaway from when the two had first met, but the target dealt with, Gracia’s reasons for sticking around were a mystery.

“That…is not the point. You need to go through the official channels here.”

“Sounds like a lot of unnecessary hassle to me.”

The blonde mage glanced around with an air of disinterest, focusing on her nails more than the woman in front of her, who was valiantly struggling to keep a lid on her temper.

“It doesn’t matter how it sounds to you. This is the law.”

“Oh my. Does this mean I’m breaking a law? How exciting. Would you like to join in? We can gallivant around town, and sing songs of piracy and banditry-”

“Are you picking a fight with me?”

Felicia was on the verge of snapping when she realised that not only was she being made fun of, Gracia was now also sporting the smallest of smiles.

She was enjoying herself.

“…Bitch,” the Clementine heir muttered.

“Look, I appreciate the courtesy call, but I have things to do. Unlike you, I’m actually busy.”

“Like what?”

“…Research,” Gracia said quietly. When Felicia found herself unable to respond, the door began to close.

“H-huh? Hey, wait! We’re not done here yet, Grace!”

“Try again another day, Clementine.”

Gently, the door shut in Felicia’s face, leaving her quivering with rage.


	14. Night Eight

- _Night Eight_ -

“Hey, Lancer.”

“What is it?”

“Can I, like…punch you?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t,” the paladin said, taking stock of the woman’s condition. She looked exhausted- not physically, but mentally drained. Her face was darkened with a glower of frustration, and her breathing was unstable.

Currently, they were taking a break, Felicia leaning against one of the many, many bookshelves while Lancer gave her a little space without straying too far.

“I could try going in spirit form…no, I suppose Falkenburg wouldn’t appreciate his maze being broken like that.”

“ _Right you are, Lancer! Of course, there’s nothing stopping you- only, once you find me, I won’t tell you where Saber’s Master is._ ”

Felicia rolled her eyes, dragging her hands down her face.

“I should never have given up smoking.”

“Maybe we should try turning back?”

“I’m missing a fundamental aspect of this. Overlooking something,” the mage said, “like, this manor is big, but it’s not big enough to hold a maze this size. So, then, what’s the deal? Since you’re seeing what I’m seeing, that must mean there’s no mental interference, right?”

“I’d agree there…but unfortunately, I don’t have the same grasp on magecraft that you have. I could probably tell you more about these tomes around us than what the secret of this maze is.”

“Let’s keep moving. Standing around isn’t gonna help…” Felicia grumbled, marching ahead, “also, you’re being annoyingly calm about this.”

“Torture isn’t new to me.”

“…Oh.”

The two fell into an awkward, unbearable silence, which only served to make the mage even more antsy and restless.

“ _Ho ho! Everything alright over there?_ ”

“No! Fuck you!”

Felicia spat on the carpet and flipped off the ceiling, not knowing the actual direction Edward was watching from.

“It might be time to cut our losses, Master. Clearly, his strategy is to weaken your mind and body with this maze-”

“ _I can assure you both…there is a trick to this maze, and it is within your best interest to discover it._ ”

“And why’s that?” Felicia snapped, trading a look with her Servant.

“ _Because otherwise…you have no chance of finding Saber’s Master until it is too late._ ” 

* * *

- _10 Years Ago_ -

Three days passed.

After three days of the same conversation, Felicia braced herself for a repeat effort- until she came across Gracia exiting her flat. For a fleeting second, the redhead dared hope the assassin was leaving for good.

“Oh. It’s you, Clementine.”

The same greeting.

Felicia felt her eyebrow twitch.

“Where are you going? Are you finally leaving?”

“I have research to do. Didn’t I mention that?” Gracia said, briskly walking past Felicia. She had only walked a couple of feet before the Clementine took issue with this.

“Oi! Grace! You can’t just- Don’t you dare leave my sight!” she yelled, chasing after the blonde woman.

Paying little attention to Felicia’s protests, insults and profanities, Gracia calmly found her way to the Nagilis Central Library, and paused in front of the door.

“Clementine. Is this the only library on this side of the city?” Gracia asked, without looking at Felicia.

“Uh…I think the big one downtown is closed for now- the fuck do you think I am, a tour guide?”

Gracia spent two hours in the library, picking out various books and encyclopaedias detailing Nagilis’ history, back into the days of legend. As time passed, the topic of her focus became more focused on Outrealm Gates- one of which could supposedly be found on this island, hundreds of years ago.

Felicia spent two hours feeling incredibly bored, stubbornly watching Gracia quietly read about the history of Nagilis. The only thing that kept her from sleeping was her own sheer determination to catch this woman in the act of…something.

“Hey. Why don’t you use a computer? You’ll probably find what you need to know quicker,” Felicia whispered. Gracia didn’t look up from her book while responding.

“I’d have to adjust my magecraft for that. It’s a lot of effort, and this library has cameras,” she explained, “but still…you, a mage, suggesting to me, a mage, to use technology? How fascinating. The rumours about you must be true, then.”

Felicia felt exposed.

“W-what rumours…?” she asked, knowing exactly what rumours were being referred to.

“You know…the ones about you shutting yourself up in your room and tinkering with machinery and computers for days on end. The Association doesn’t have much of a good impression of you…”

“I don’t want to hear this from a mage who uses a gun,” Felicia slumped, propping her hand on her cheek, her elbow on the table, scowling away from the assassin in front of her.

“Any means necessary. Besides, I don’t see the point of denying the uses of technology. Magecraft will become irrelevant if it doesn’t adapt.”

Felicia felt derailed by the realisation that not only was Gracia not mocking her, she was agreeing with her.

“I- buh- yeah…” she responded intelligently. Neither pursued the line of conversation, and eventually, Gracia snapped her book shut, returned it to the shelf, and began to leave the library. Felicia- praising Naga for the salvation she’d been granted- followed closely.

The assassin pulled out a map as she wondered seemingly aimlessly, pausing occasionally to mark out points on it, and eventually drew to halt at a street corner.

“Hey. Stalker,” she said.

“What?” Felicia snarled, grinding her teeth.

“This house…where I’ve circled. What is it now?”

The Clementine heir glanced at the map, her eyes drawn to the large circle Gracia’s slender finger was indicating. A sigh followed.

“That’s…my house, Grace.”

The blond woman paused and fidgeted, desperately trying not to react to Felicia’s persistence in calling her ‘Grace’.

“The Clementine estate, huh? Thought so…”

Felicia placed a finger on her forehead.

“Could you be…looking for Nagilis’ Outrealm Gate?”

“…Sorta. So, it’s true your family has lived here for generations, guarding it?”

“Mm…this island used to be called Outrealm Island, actually. My ancestors were among the first here, and we’ve been guarding the Gate ever since. Well, we used to, anyway…it’s gone now. Now we just guard the land. Since there’s little of importance here, the Association recognises that the Clementines own any magical items and locations on this island, and thusly it is our responsibility to protect the secrets of magecraft and magic here.”

Gracia smirked knowingly, choosing to ignore the Felicia’s reiteration of the reason she wasn’t allowed to stay on the island.

“The structure might be gone, but the Gate itself will always remain. Mere mages like us may not be able to utilise it- but other beings…or objects…may be able to.”

Felicia definitely knew of something that could- and would- but that wasn’t something Gracia would- or should- know about.

“It’s curious, isn’t it? Some say understanding Outrealm Gates is the key to unlocking the secrets of the True Second Magic.”

“You have an interest in True Magic?”

“Not especially…” as Gracia finished speaking, she folded the map up, and began walking again. Felicia followed, deep in thought. She had her suspicions about what this assassin was investigating…and she didn’t like it.

Bafflingly, Gracia ceased her meandering in front of an arcade, staring inside, and entering after a moment of deliberation. Her stalker followed with a frown.

“What are you up to…?”

The redhead’s question was answered as she watched Gracia approach a crane game.

The frown morphed into a scowl as the blonde woman inserted some money.

The grinding teeth returned as Gracia won nothing, and tried again.

By the time the assassin finally won something, Felicia was practicing her deep breathing exercises- and failing horribly.

“Look. Isn’t it cute?” Gracia said impassively, showing Felicia a furry pink Taguel plush.

“You…”

The Clementine heir quivered and seethed. Gracia’s expression was inscrutable.

“Hm?”

“What the _fuck_ kind of _research_ is this, _Grace_?!”

Gracia sighed and shrugged, tossing the plush to Felicia as she left the arcade.

“You have it, then.”

The redhead mage was rooted to the spot, trembling with fury as she violently gripped the plush, watching the woman leave.

“ _Dastard!_ ” she roared, hurling the plush at the wall, her cheeks flushed the colour of her hair. 

* * *

- _Night Eight_ -

Two pairs of eyes watched Rider soar southward, performing spectacular aerial manoeuvres to avoid the increasing rate of arrows flying her way. Archer was doing a good job hiding himself, but Minerva had was taking minimal damage from the few projectiles that had managed to hit her.

Hours had passed with neither side making any significant progress.

Saber had settled on watching the fight, not interfering in case that Rider’s attention would be diverted, or Archer would be scared off.

The dragoon was persistently flying above the western side of the city, avoiding the downtown area where Innes had been in and around earlier- and by doing so, the bowman had been drawn westward.

Lucina’s goal was Archer. So, if Rider defeated him- or at least, flushed him out- then that was an outcome she could work with.

Right now, she had to focus on this current objective. No matter what she decided to do after, Nidhogg’s curse was a major hindrance to her abilities. And with Archer down, Gracia would be one step closer to her wish-

She’d compared it to her own.

A place to belong…

It had stung her more than she could have imagined; to learn that her own warm feelings of respect for her Master were completely unreciprocated, that the bond she thought they shared was an empty, one-sided one. All those times Gracia had complimented her efforts, or been understanding of her mistakes-

All of that had been a lie. A lie to manipulate her, to coerce her into cooperating until the end.

Gracia Alcott saw her as a tool.

Just a means to obtain the Fire Emblem.

“…I can’t subject the world to her whim. I must take the Emblem before she can reach it…”

Lucina was effectively working against her own Master-

But they both had the same enemies to defeat.

Bitter with the taste of irony, the Servant returned her focus to the sky.

The dragoon now seemed to be heading southward, as did the origin of the arrows, if Saber was following their trajectories correctly. The spectator watched intently, wondering what Minerva had in mind.

Above the south district, the wyvern decelerated, hanging in the sky as Rider waited for the next attack. Her lips curled as her grip on her axe tightened in anticipation.

“ _Rider. About the matter we discussed earlier…_ ”

“Not now, Master.”

“ _Ho ho! I seem to have caught you at a bad time. But…_ ”

“It doesn’t matter. From the moment you summoned me, I knew our chances of winning were low. That doesn’t matter- I’m still going to fight for you until the end.”

Edward went silent, so his Servant continued, “a child like her shouldn’t be involved in this war any longer. I will not accept her as my Master- but I will protect her, and you, until the very end.”

“ _…Ah, how fortune smiles upon me. I have been graced with such a kind, loyal Servant! Thank you, Rider._ ”

“Stop it. I’m just reiterating what I said earlier.”

Archer still hadn’t made his next move, but it was only a matter of time.

“I should be able to finish Archer soon. I’ve shown him he has to get close if he wants to score a hit; soon, he’ll crawl into an area where I can attack him with minimal collateral.”

“ _Ho ho…very good. I…_ ”

The voice fell silent, causing the recipient to frown.

“Master?”

“ _No, never mind. I’ll leave you to it, Rider._ ”

Minerva didn’t question it, her full attention returning to keeping a lookout for the next arrow. She didn’t give any second thought to what her Master stopped short of saying-

Because she had a feeling she knew already.

 _I may not make it through the night_.

* * *

“ _I’m impressed. Felicia is at her wit’s end, even with her Servant at her side. But you, on the other hand…_ ”

Gracia’s demeanour hadn’t changed at all since reaching the manor. The tome maze didn’t seem to bother her, and she’d kept walking the whole time at the same pace, her face betraying no emotion.

She was like a machine.

Without warning, the assassin abruptly halted, reaching out to a white tome beside her.

“Do you mind if I have a look at this? I have an interest in light tomes. Never come across a Purge tome before.”

“ _Hm…well, I’ll have to ask you to return it before you leave, but otherwise I see no harm. Go ahead._ ”

Sliding the tome out, the mage flicked it open, mindlessly walking onwards as her attention locked onto the magical book in her hands. Despite the suppression field, she could feel the high amount of power held in it.

“Perhaps I should tell you something you might find interesting,” Gracia said, flicking a page and turning a corner, her eyes never leaving the tome, “it’s about my lineage. You see, my ancestors were shunned for their research, and went far, far north to live in isolation.”

Another page flip. Another corner.

“They were marked for sealing…well, that’s another story. Anyway, as you know, one of the goals of magecraft is to reach the height of power the original mages had, but without the use of tomes. It’s the common belief that, with complete control of an element, True Magic will be closer to reality…”

Page flip. Corner.

“But mages tend to avoid light magic. Many think that it’s impossible for mages to use light magecraft without a tome…and of course, most churches tend to vehemently reinforce this view. Humans are not worthy of light magic, they say.”

“ _So your family studied…light magecraft?_ ”

“Well, they tried. I stuck to my own element- lightning- and only found out later what my family’s goal was.”

Gracia snapped the tome shut.

“I have no idea if they were successful…I never inherited a magic crest. But I think I can manage something comparable to light magecraft, so maybe they were onto something.”

“ _…Could it be…? Are you…_ ”

“The name’s Gracia,” the Alcott mage said, once again drawing to a halt, “I thought I may as well give it away now that I’ve figured out the gimmick.”

“ _Ho ho…_ ”

Gracia returned the tome into the slot she’d taken it from.

She’d only walked forward, following the linear path, but she’d returned to the same position she’d been in minutes ago.

Her hand plucked out another tome, which she didn’t bother opening.

“This maze is designed, of course, to destroy a person’s mind. The positioning of the tomes is uncomfortable to look at- any mage would think of them as tomes, fixating on the power inside them, and not realise they’re just there to form an invasively chaotic pattern of colour. There’s no order, just fixed rows of one colour, one after the next.”

The mage peered carefully through the gap in the row where the tome in her hand had been sitting.

“It repeats, though. It repeats, but it never gets familiar. You’d have to be a real peace of work not to get suckered into a breakdown,” she said, “so, you have us walking in circles. Using an incredibly minimal amount of magecraft…but it’s still present. I’m looking for stairs, though.”

Reaching through the gap, Gracia planted her hand on the wall behind, much like the door that had led her into the maze.

“…Yeah. I’m not too far off…” she muttered, withdrawing her hand. Methodically, she did the same with the next column to the left, repeating the process three times.

“ _I could really learn to fear you, given the chance._ ”

“You fear death?”

“ _Only the everlasting regrets that come with it._ ”

The assassin brushed against a barrier blocking the next tome she tried pulling out, her eyes going wide at the resistance.

“An illusion- no, this is…a light rune?” she whistled in awe, “I’ve only seen this used in military applications…”

“ _Ho ho! I must say, I’m almost excited to meet you, face to face…_ ”

“Dunno what gods you’re into, but you should probably start praying now.”

After only a few minutes of searching, the assassin found the light rune forming the barrier, tucked away in a nearby bookshelf. She made to crush it, but stopped short.

“I hope you’re not gonna use this as an excuse to back out of the deal.”

“ _Wouldn’t dream of it…ho ho!_ ”

With no spare hesitation, the rune crumbled, dissipating the barrier, revealing simple door. Gracia used the same technique to open it as the previous door she’d come across, smiling blandly at the stairs that met her.

“Ready or not, here I come,” she said, preparing her gun as she climbed the staircase.

Through the last door-

“Looks like I win.”

Gracia briskly entered, gun in hand, raising an eyebrow at the figure that met her.

An old, withered man, knelt on a cushion, eyes closed, drawing no breath.

Edward Falkenburg.

A killer, on the verge of death.

“ _Congratulations. But I suppose this outcome was inevitable after we conversed last night._ ”

His mouth didn’t move; even when directly confronted, he chose to use telepathy.

“If I was anyone else, I’d have never made it,” Gracia said, “now, let’s get this over with. Tell me about Archer’s Master.”

“ _Ho ho! Yes, you are acquainted with him already, I believe. The young man accompanied by a Morph. Formerly, he was Caster’s Master._ ”

“Hmph. Persistant kid. He’s not even a mage…yet he’s so desperate to stay in the war. I guess that makes things easier on me. Where is he?”

“ _Such a shame you have to kill him. I had very high hopes for how he’d turn out…it seems the Emblem has taken quite an interest in his destiny._ ”

“I don’t care. Get on with it.”

“ _He’s wounded, in the forest…why don’t I give you a rough visual idea?_ ”

Like he’d done with his memories, Edward projected the part of the forest Kerry was hiding in to Gracia’s mind, who garnered the information she needed from it in a blink.

“Great. This’ll be easier than I hoped. Anything else you want to add?”

“ _It doesn’t seem like I can bargain for my life. Perhaps if I offered to find the Emblem for you?_ ”

“I know where to find it already. I can make a move on securing that once I’m done with you and that kid.”

“ _In that case…there’s just one thing._ ”

The assassin, aiming at her gun at Edward’s head, knitted her eyebrows. Like a creaking, unoiled mechanism, the old man raised his head, his eyes shooting open, pupils dilating-

“Gracia Alcott…”

His true voice was wispy, faint; there was none of the jovial, light nature his telepathy suggested.

“Your Origin is… _Desolation_.”

Those were the final words of Edward Falkenburg.

It was almost unnecessary for Gracia to pull the trigger- but she was a thorough woman, who needed to ensure he was a truly dead man.

His body barely made a sound as it fell backwards, sprawled out on the floor.

Sparing the elderly man no extra thought, Gracia moved past the body to the balcony behind him, formulating her next plan…

How to get to the forest in the quickest fashion possible.

How best to dispose of Archer’s Master.

And, after that…

How to deal with Felicia Clementine.

* * *

Innes wasn’t aware of what caused the sudden change to Rider’s attitude- her explosive burst of aggression- but he was aware that he’d made a costly mistake with his last shot. The south district, Soldier’s Sanctuary, was borderline slums; poorly constructed houses and ill maintained streets created a wide range of cover and hiding spots, but there were plenty of abandoned homes, like the one he’d positioned himself.

The bowman barely had time to spring out of the house before an explosion ripped it apart, curtesy of Hauteclere. The force blew him forwards, out into the open…

Directly into Minerva’s field of vision.

“No way…” he said, “she was drawing me closer…but how long has she been able to pinpoint my position?”

Had she worked it out before, and waited until now- when there were no civilians around him- to strike?

Another explosive wave, followed by Rider soaring downward at him- Archer didn’t take a direct hit, but getting knocked back through a wave of rubble had damaged him noticeably. Rolling back onto his feet, he took aim at his foe.

Dread took hold of him.

In a cold sweat, he fired three arrows, knowing they’d do nothing to stay her advance.

In a heartbeat, he moved to avoid Rider’s direct attack-

“Grrk-!”

The wyvern swooped by, and Archer was blown back against a wall with a large gash on his arm.

Then, without warning, there was a loud _crash_.

“What…the?”

The wyvern had crashlanded, slumping over and throwing off Minerva; after a few moments, it faded away, leaving the Servant staggering on the empty street, using her weapon as support.

Those arrows couldn’t have been enough, which would mean…

Rider had lost her source of power?

Her face twisted with immense strain and determination as Hauteclere began glowing once more. Innes belatedly gathered his bearings, leaping away as Minerva roared the true name of her Noble Phantasm.

“ _Hauteclere!_ ”

One last defiant cry.

Archer had a rough landing, but he was in no worse shape than Rider, who’d started panting and gritting her teeth. After rising to his feet, the bowman sighed, firing arrows at Rider’s abdomen and shoulder.

She slumped against a wall, sliding to the ground.

“Damn it all,” she gasped, “just kill me.”

Innes strode toward her, regarding her with an appraising look.

“Pretty poor timing on your Master’s part, I must say. This is, without a doubt, the worst interruption possible.”

“Heh…funny you say that. It…looked like…I was about to kill you…”

“Yes. I lost this battle,” Archer admitted, “had you not been hindered like this, I would be less than a stain on this road.”

Rider coughed up blood, her head tilting back against the wall.

“…Is that meant…to make me feel better?”

“No. But to let you die without acknowledging your victory would be a stain on my pride. However…”

Archer raised his bow.

Rider did not react.

“I will need to find that girl, provided she’s still alive.”

“Can’t say if she is…but I…hope so,” Minerva grunted, “so keeping my…mouth shut…will be my last…act of defiance…against you.”

“…I see. Well, it’s only fair. I did lose, after all,” Innes said, drawing his bowstring back.

He paused, and turned his head, frowning.

“Oh? Is that…Saber? Hm…I better get a head start while I can.”

As the bowman made to leave, vanishing into the air, he gave one last nod to his fallen opponent.

“Never have I been so awe-inspired. You truly are a legendary warrior, dragoon of Medon.”

Minerva snorted with all the mirth she had remaining, watching Archer fade away.

Her Master had shown her his last moments; the blonde woman, what she’d said, and what Edward had responded with. He’d shown her that Adelina was safe- provided she’d stayed in her room until after the woman had left.

The woman…Saber’s Master.

She was undoubtedly capable of murdering a child. But Adelina was smart enough to know not to reveal herself to her, so…

“I got…to save someone…” the Servant murmured, gazing at the moon above. Her lips curved, seeing the unchanging sky.

The stars were the same.

The moon was the same.

She was…the same.

“Rider!”

Suddenly, beside her, a figure clad in blue crouched at her side, staring at her with wide eyes.

“Sa…ber…”

Lucina took Minerva’s hand, holding it between both of hers.

“Your Master…brought an end to mine…” Rider rasped, “she knows…where the Emblem is…”

“The Emblem? But how?”

The dragoon shook her head, continuing, “my Master…read her Origin. It is… _Desolation_. I don’t know…what it means…but you may.”

“Her…Origin…”

Lucina knew what an Origin was; in her life, the voice of the divine dragon had enlightened her on the matter. One of the most fundamental components of a person, the aspect that drives part of the subconscious- and, if awakened, becomes an obsession.

Gracia Alcott’s was ‘Desolation’.

She was incapable of loving, hating, or feeling for the people around her-

A desolate existence.

How painful had it been? All this time, having no connection to anyone…

To be so isolated, and alone…

To have to lie to others, and to herself, without end…

Lucina couldn’t help but feel a pang in her heart.

“Now, go…Saber.”

Minerva was struggling to hold her form; she was on the verge of fading away.

“…No, I-I…have to tell you something. Please, hang on, just for a little bit,” Lucina said earnestly, “uhm, you see- well, I was a failure too.”

“What…?”

“I was princess of Ylisse…and I’ll always be proud of that. But the Fell Dragon laid waste to the world in my time, and I…I couldn’t stand up to him. I couldn’t lead my people- and once it was too late for my world, I took my comrades to the past.”

Her grip tightened, and she bit her lip, “I was a failure of a princess. And I still am…I led my comrades to the Outrealm, with the promise of finding a new home, and…all it resulted in was more fighting for us all.”

“You’re saying…we’re alike?”

“Yes. In some aspects, I feel we are. So, as a fellow failure…”

Their eyes locked.

“I think, if you truly made a wrong choice in life…someone close to you would have told you. Don’t you agree? You trusted your comrades too, right?”

Her reaction was minute, but Minerva certainly comprehended.

Marth. The Whitewings. The people of Medon.

Her sister-

“Ah…”

A single tear.

“I’m glad…”

Satisfied, Rider let go.

Saber watched her disappear with a small smile. She stood back up, and turned around, feeling a Servant’s presence nearby, getting weaker. They were heading west; towards the forest.

“Archer…it’s time to settle this.” 

* * *

- _10 Years Ago_ -

Every day.

Felicia came knocking on Gracia’s door every day for two weeks.

Most days, they would have a short standoff, leading to Felicia stomping off; occasionally, Gracia would go out, normally to go shopping for food, and Felicia would follow, grumbling and trying her best to make the assassin feel as unwelcome as possible, whilst helping her carry a few bags of groceries in order to ‘check their contents’.

Felicia chalked it off as a stark coincidence that on any day Gracia left her apartment, she did it the exact moment Felicia arrived.

Just like any other day, the Clementine heir fell into routine, and found herself in front of her rival’s front door.

This time, Gracia opened on the first knock.

“Oh. It’s you, Clementine.”

“Yeah. It’s me…ah. I never learnt your family name.”

“Alcott.”

Felicia didn’t recognise the name, but she made a mental note to look it up later.

“So? Where will you be stalking me today, I wonder?”

“Actually, I…uh…need your help.”

Gracia’s inscrutable expression was back.

“Do you now…”

“Yes. There’s something in it for you, don’t worry.”

A moment of deliberation passed.

“Like?”

“If you help now, I’ll leave you alone for good.”

“What if I secretly enjoy your company?”

When confronted with a baleful look, Gracia shrugged.

“Help with what?”

“Come with me and you’ll find out.”

Felicia led the way; the blonde mage pursed her lips before following. The two walked through the streets of Nagilis, neither exchanging a word until the redhead stopped suddenly.

“A restaurant?”

“Yes.”

Gracia’s eyes fell on a colourful sign outside.

“‘Couples eat free, all you can eat buffet, one day only…’” she read out. She glanced at Felicia with a pitying look.

“You…don’t have any friends?”

“Oh, shut up,” Felicia marched in, with Gracia following at her own pace. The assassin waited until they were sat down with food to speak further.

“This really is all you wanted, huh?”

“The food is great here, and I had no one else to-”

Felicia cut herself off by cramming food into her mouth before saying something she’d regret. Gracia raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment, choosing simply to stare at her own plate.

“Not hungry?”

“Too hot.”

“Huh…weirdo.”

“…I just need it to cool a little. And while I wait…I have questions.”

Felicia swallowed her mouthful.

“Questions?”

“Yeah. About…the Fire Emblem.”

There was a sharp pause.

“…There have been many Fire Emblems. Which one in particular?” Felicia said, filling her mouth with more food.

“Don’t play dumb. I’m obviously talking about this city’s Fire Emblem…the so-called wish granter.”

The red haired mage furiously choked as she abruptly swallowed her food, while Gracia watched impassively. Felicia fumbled for a drink, chugging water before responding.

“How and _why_ do you know this?”

“Is it meant to be a secret?”

“Uh, yeah? Kinda? It hasn’t been around for almost a hundred years now. Only people with ancestry tied to the war should have any clue about it. All it is to the Association is…a weak rumour, at best.”

“But there’s going to be one soon, isn’t there? A Fire Emblem War.”

Felicia brought a gloved hand to her face as she regarded Gracia warily.

“So that’s why you’ve been researching Outrealm Gates…fuck, I really should have seen this coming.”

The assassin had no response to this. But it was clear to Felicia that she knew that the Fire Emblem utilised the Outrealm Gate in some way.

“You have a wish, then?”

Gazing out of a window, the woman paid no heed to the scrutiny she was under.

“Yes…a peaceful world.”

It was curious.

Felicia felt as though she could understand what Gracia was thinking, for just that moment. Her eyes were dull, and her expression was empty.

But she spoke in such a wistful way…

Perhaps this was her being honest, for once.

Somehow, Felicia got the impression that Gracia Alcott was…

A lonely person.

She sighed. It was depressing just thinking about it.

“An assassin, wishing for world peace? Haha, didn’t know you were into irony.”

When Felicia didn’t get any reaction out of Gracia, she frowned, and continued speaking.

“Well, er…I guess I can relate with you there. If I got to make a wish, it’d probably be something along the lines of world peace…”

Gracia faced her once again, smiling; there was no warmth behind it, but it wasn’t mocking in any way. Felicia found herself unable to make eye contact, her cheeks involuntarily heating up.

“I guess that means we have the same goal. Although, when I hear it from someone else,” the blonde mage said, “it does sound a little childish, doesn’t it?”

After shooting her a scowl, the Clementine heir picked at her food briefly.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll tell you…some things about the Fire Emblem War. It won’t mean shit if you’re not chosen, and the likely hood of that is low, so I guess there’s no harm.”

“Go on…”

“Man, I’m gonna regret this, but anyway…six mages, known as Masters, are chosen by the Emblem, and summon Heroic Spirits- heroes from the past- to fight for them as Servants. Masters perform a summoning ritual, the Emblem calls the Heroic Spirit through the Outrealm Gate, gives them a body of mana and a connection to their Master. Last one standing is the winner…to put it simply,” Felicia explained, “the seven classes of Heroic Spirit are typically Saber, Lancer, Archer, Rider, Caster, Assassin and Guardian, although there are other classes like Fighter, and Berserker.”

“Six Masters, but seven Servants?”

“Yes…Guardian is the most important Servant, and is directly summoned by the Emblem itself. It’s usually the strongest, but I don’t know much else about it…”

“Interesting…so, do both Servant and Master need to be eliminated, or…?”

“Just the Servant…but taking out a Master can cut off a Servant’s mana supply, so that works too.”

“And who gets chosen by the Emblem?”

“Er…depends, really. Something to do with if you have- or will have- the conviction to fight for it. There’s also the matter of being in the right place at the right time…and strong mages are more likely candidates, I think.”

Gracia went silent, deep in thought. Both had long forgotten about their food.

“I’m going to leave the city tomorrow,” the assassin said suddenly.

“Huh? Where did that come from?”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed here…”

“W-well, yeah, but…” Felicia didn’t know why she was so flustered, but it annoyed her.

“I got what I needed here. I don’t need to stick around.”

The redhead failed to hide her disappointment, but Gracia didn’t pick up on it.

“I appreciate the help…Felicia. Looks like we both benefitted from today.”

“Somehow, it’s more annoying when you call me that…”

The blonde mage stifled a giggle.

“There’s one more thing, then. Before I let you leave this island.”

“What is it?”

Felicia took a deep breath as Gracia stared curiously.

“Let’s fight, Alcott.”

“A duel, huh…?”

Gracia leant back in her seat.

Then, after considering the request, a challenging smirk rose to her face.

“Sure. Let’s see if you’re as great as you say you are, hotshot.” 

* * *

- _Night Eight_ -

“Ah, fuck it.”

Felicia put her foot down, whacking the nearest tome to her.

“The old coot hasn’t spoken in a while…is he even paying attention?” the woman grumbled to herself, “oi! Eddy! I’m gonna burn your house down! Hello?”

No response.

“Perhaps this is the next stage of his plan to destroy your mind. Although, I will say, you are rather spirited even now-”

Lancer was ignored, as his Master blankly stared at the fire flickering around her hand.

“The field…it’s weakening?” she gasped, “Lancer!”

“On it.”

The Servant dematerialised, while Felicia tested out basic magecraft to confirm what she already knew as she impatiently waited for Lancer’s findings.

“ _Master…you’re really not going to like this._ ”

“Do you really think my mood can get worse? Spill.”

“ _I’ll come and get you. Don’t move._ ”

“Huh-”

Before she could raise a question, the ceiling behind her collapsed, revealing a hole wide enough for a person to fit through. Although not hit by any large chunks, the woman was blanketed in dust.

“I take it back. This, right here- this is rock fucking bottom,” she moaned, using her reinforcement technique to leap to the upper floor- and once again after that. Upon landing, she didn’t even have to glance around to know what she’d see.

“He’s dead, isn’t he.”

Lancer nodded, stepping aside so Felicia could examine the body.

“We were followed…” she froze in place upon seeing the fatal wound, gasping, “no way…”

“Master?”

“A bullet wound?”

A gun.

An expert in stealth.

A mage that could interfere with robotic drones.

 _Someone who knew her_ -

“You…you’re kidding me, right?”

Felicia leant against a nearby bookshelf- boy, was she sick of these now- giving herself a moment to regain composure.

But as she did so, she caught sight of a curious, wide open eye in the gap next to the shelf.

“Miss Clementine?”

“…Addy?!”

The secret door opened, causing the redhead to lose balance as Adelina entered the room.

“I- uhm…”

“Did you see who did this?” Felicia demanded, grabbing the girl’s shoulders, “were you watching?”

“Y-yeah, I was-”

“Was it a woman with blonde hair?”

Adelina nodded meekly under the adult’s harsh stare, and watched as a torrent of emotions rushed through Felicia’s face.

“Gracia…Alcott...”

A strained- but definite- grin spread, and she elicited the slightest of chuckles.

“No fuckin’ way, man. Out of everyone it could have been…”

“You know her?” Adelina asked, confused by the reaction, “actually, she tried to kill me a few days ago…”

“Well, duh. She’s an assassin,” the mage responded, turning to her Servant, “so, we now know Saber’s Master. And boy, does this explain a lot.”

“That’s fine, but perhaps you should release that poor girl from your iron grip?” Lancer said, which Adelina silently thanked him for. Felicia stepped back, running a hand through her hair as she considered the situation, while her Servant politely questioned the witness.

“Is there anything else you can tell us? Did they exchange any words?”

The girl folded her arms, brow creasing as she tried to recall what she’d seen.

“Something about Archer’s Master…what else…”

“She must have struck a similar deal to ours with Falkenburg. So we can assume she knows where Archer’s Master…is…?”

Lancer felt something was off with his conclusion; Felicia made an exasperated look after giving it some thought.

“Harold’s dead. Dead because of…electrocution…oh, man, that was her handiwork, too…”

“So, we can assume Archer has a new Master. Is there anything else?”

“Er…she said she knew where to find…something,” Adelina continued, “I didn’t get to hear Mister Edward’s telepathy, so I’m not sure what they were talking about. But since she mentioned ‘securing’ it, I think she meant…the Fire Emblem.”

“Securing the- but- wait, she knows where it is? How?”

“It’s kind of…easy to guess?”

The girl received a dour look, prompting her to explain, “it’s not hidden. It’s in the safest place possible, until there’s a winner.”

“Not hidden? What are you talking about?”

“Well…” Adelina fidgeted, considering her position- and deciding to take a stance, “Guardian has it.”

Felicia traded a look with her Servant before resuming the interrogation, “are you sure about this?”

“Yes! Traditionally, in the older wars, Guardian would face the last Servant and Master team as the last battle of the war. But no Guardian has ever lost, and so no one has ever laid hands on the Fire Emblem.”

“Guardian of the Emblem, not of the war…oh.”

“That’s right. Guardian’s Master is the Emblem itself. They follow its every whim…”

“So, what happens if Guardian gets killed while there’s still more than one other Servant remaining?” Felicia inquired.

“Uhm, then the Emblem appears, but it won’t be able to grant a wish until there’s just one Servant left…I think…”

Master wheeled around to Servant, giving him a dead serious look.

“Lancer. Take the bike, and go to the church- Guardian is normally around there,” the mage instructed, “but don’t fight her…not until I get there.”

“You want me to keep tabs on her?”

“I want you to intercept Saber. He’ll have the same idea- or, rather his Master will.”

“Understood.”

Before Lancer could leave, Felicia added, “oh, and…if you damage the bike, I’ll suplex you off a fucking skyscraper.”

The spearman chuckled at the mage’s concern.

“I’ll take care, Master,” he said, fading away. Hiding her own smile, Felicia gave Adelina her full attention, hands on hips.

“I forgot to ask,” she said, “the f- hell are you doing here, kid?”

“It’s a long story…”

“Nevermind, then. Assassin around?”

The cleric shook her head sadly.

“Oh boy…guess it’s down to auntie Felicia to look after you now…”

“You don’t sound particularly enthusiastic about that.”

“Well, duh! I’ve got a war to win, you little git,” auntie Felicia snapped, marching over to the balcony, “my home isn’t too far. I’ll leave you there until I finish things off with Grace.”

“That’s okay, but…are you sure you’re alright? You know this person, right?” Adelina’s genuine concern, born from how unfathomable the woman’s expression was.

Cold sweat.

A manic grin.

Shaking in fear-

“I won’t lie to you, kid…I don’t know how I’m going to react when I see her. I'm too restless to think straight. But y'know what? It doesn’t matter that the dastard’s beaten me before…I just need to be ready this time.”

She’d gotten stronger in the past decade…

But Gracia Alcott had definitely refined her technique in that same time.

There was no doubt in Felicia’s mind it was down to just her and Gracia.

The strongest mage, and the deadliest killer.

* * *

The chase was on.

Although she couldn’t see him, Saber knew she was on Archer’s trail. She’d hurtled at full speed toward the bowman, who’d picked up his own pace to match hers in response.

Out of the city, to the forest. Archer had veered away from going deeper in, skirting along the edge, firing arrows at his follower every now and then.

Saber couldn’t fathom his route- but it didn’t matter. So long as she continued pressuring him like this, he wouldn’t be able to hide, and she could finally get rid of the curse. The swordsman was determined to settle it tonight.

Even at this high speed, Innes’ aim was remarkable; Lucina was hard pressed to avoid the directly oncoming projectiles, and she hadn’t drawn her sword in order to conserve her mana. As long as she finished this soon, she could afford to take hits- but her mana was a precious resource, especially since it was supplied by a Master she intended to rebel against.

Archer, still lightly injured, was having the time of his life. His relentless pursuer was hot on his tail, ready to cut him down. It wasn’t an ideal situation at all, and if he stalled for even a moment, he would die.

But after dancing with death at the hands of Rider, Innes felt ready for anything.

Preferably, the bowman would have delved deeper into the forest for cover, but his Master was somewhere in there, so bringing an enemy Servant his way was out of the question.

His next two arrows found their mark, but Saber was keeping up her pace-

Yes, it was a little odd, but it seemed that, unmasked, Saber was actually a woman.

Not the Hero-King.

Well, while the Prince of Archery would have loved one of history’s most legendary heroes as an opponent, this Saber wasn’t too much to complain about. She was a determined fighter- and he could respect someone like that.

At this velocity, his precision wavered slightly; Innes could still land any of his arrows on his target, but direct hits to vital areas like the head weren’t finding their mark.

It was frustrating, but exhilarating all the same. He had the upper hand, but only just-

An overwhelming presence nearly caused the bowman to freeze in his tracks; a familiar, brilliant and terrifying Servant, dead ahead. He’d been so caught up with fighting Saber that he hadn’t noticed until it had gotten close.

He had no choice but to try and race past it-

But when the flash of light filled his vision, he knew it was too late.

Innes drew to a halt in front of his greatest foe of this war, the divine dragon that had almost annihilated him with a single blow. The awe-inspiring creature regarded him with its single eye, baring its fangs in a threatening manner.

“You again, huh?” he said, grinning despite himself, “fine. I’d be mad too, with a curse like Nidhogg’s…but I won’t go down without a fight.”

He raised his bow-

And in that instant, Guardian swatted him aside, smashing him through rows of trees, and sending a ball of misty flames after him. Against such insurmountable strength, there was little the bowman could do to soften the landing.

…This was the end.

There was no avoiding it; Innes was completely vulnerable to the final blow, with no time to move.

Yet all he could feel was a surge of pride; it had taken a dragon to finally best him. Of all the foes he could fall to in this war, it was surely the greatest of them all that was about to finish him. Other than victory itself, he couldn’t have asked for a greater conclusion.

Archer had gotten what he desired, and was content- but part of him did feel a twinge of sorrow over being unable to give Kerry the Fire Emblem.

Oh, well. At the very least, he’d learn a thing or two from the experience.

Archer did not scream as the misty flames engulfed him, and within moments, he was dead.

Sparing no time to view her handiwork, the Manakete returned to her robed human form, leaving with haste.

“Hey- wait!” Saber called out to the fleeing figure, to no avail. Her eyes were drawn to the path of destruction, and the lack of Archer’s presence. Putting the clues together, she tentatively drew out Falchion, and sighed in relief.

The curse was gone…Archer was dead.

Taking a moment to heal her wounds with her Noble Phantasm, Lucina sprinted in the direction of Guardian…

In the direction of the church.

* * *

Hobbling through the dark forest was a pain- as was the mere act of being alive- but Kerry felt a greater sense of purpose than ever before. Unlike last time he’d been here, over a week ago, he had a grasp on his position and an idea on how to make the most of it.

Most importantly, he had Stella- who was slowly picking up human mannerisms, much more so now that she wanted to be fully human. The idea was surreal…

Or, it would have been, a week ago. But now that magic and supernatural chaos was normalised in his life, Kerry wanted to show this girl his world, and the future that lay ahead.

“So, uh, Stella,” he said, “I know you want to be human, but…is there anything you’d like to do as one?”

“Hm…” the Morph considered her answer, “I want to…understand more. There were lots of things I didn’t comprehend about the city.”

“I hear you there. Nothing makes sense anymore.”

Stella regarded the man curiously, tilting her head.

“It-I was joking. Sorry.”

“I think…I’d like to learn about humour, too.”

“Ahah…yeah, that’d be…weird,” Kerry said, “er- but, yeah! There’s loads of shit going on, all the time, so you’ll never run out of things to do.”

The Morph nodded, her eyes resting on the back of the man’s hand briefly. No reaction registered on her face…

But she couldn’t say anything.

For some reason, telling him his last Command Seal was gone…was simply too difficult.

All she had to do was speak the words, and yet…

“Perhaps you could teach me something now,” she found herself saying, “while we…wait for Archer…”

What was this feeling?

This unbearable weight in her chest?

Stella was aware she was fated to die. That much, she’d accepted, but…

“Uh, I dunno…I’m kinda not in the greatest condition ever. Also, I’m just a little stupid.”

The thought of how he’d react- especially after being given this second chance- brought her pain she could never have imagined before.

“I don’t mind. It can be anything.”

Anything- yes, anything that could lead her mind away from the inevitable.

“Ah, gee…lemme think…”

It was too much.

“What do you do…to comfort another person?”

A selfish request. But if she didn’t ask, it felt like she’d explode.

“Oh, uh, there’s lots of ways, really. Saying nice things, or hugging…yeah, hugging. I don’t do it often, but…”

“Hugging?”

“Yeah, you just, uh,” Kerry’s cheeks went red at the thought, “well, wrap your arms around another person, and…that’s it.”

Awkwardly, Stella attempted this, while Kerry’s free arm returned the sentiment.

“I don’t understand.”

“I think the idea is…taking comfort from intimacy, or something…” the young man blabbed, his heart pounding, the Morph making no sign of letting go any time soon.

“Oh. It is nice to be around you…is that what you mean?”

“Y-yeah,” Kerry squeaked.

Stella released him, stepping back with a smile.

“I do feel a little better…”

“Better? Huh?”

“…Don’t worry about it.”

Kerry shrugged, returning Stella’s look. His own smile stiffened, his eyes became lifeless, and his body convulsed and fell forward, thumping on the ground like a broken toy.

There was no warning. No signs.

A knife was embedded in his back.

“Kerry…?”

Stella was too stunned to react; she fell to her knees, her hands hovering over the body.

The corpse.

Kerry Denton was dead.

The only small mercy was how he’d been spared the pain of knowing his efforts were futile, the oblivion claiming his life before his mind could process it.

From the shadows, Gracia emerged, gun in hand, cautiously regarding the Morph.

Her magecraft allowed her to lethally charge an object- normally, a knife- so that any stab wound would be fatal. The object would discharge on contact, so even a glancing blow would be a death sentence.

A Morph, though, likely had some level of resistance to magecraft, so the more pragmatic solution would be the gun in her hand.

“Why…”

The assassin’s mouth twisted at the sight of the mourning Morph.

“Are you kidding me? Even a thing like you can…?”

Stella said nothing; she hadn’t even registered Gracia’s presence.

Had she the ability to cry, she would have.

Instead, she closed her eyes, gently placing a hand on Kerry’s cheek.

Gracia wordlessly levelled her gun at the Morph’s head, pulling the trigger without a second thought.

The girl fell softly, with grace.

“…Annoying,” Gracia commented, mostly at herself. She had no reason to dwell on the matter, so after retrieving the knife from the man’s back, she swiftly turned back the way she came.

All she had to do now was remove the last remaining obstacle.

Weaving and dashing between trees, the mage reloaded her weapon, slowing to a walk as the forest got less dense. Using her link to her Servant, she checked Saber’s situation.

Not too far away; heading toward the vicinity of the church. Sword in hand; Archer must have been taken down, so Saber was now back at full capacity. That was nice to know.

Gracia stepped into a clearing…

Coming face to face with Felicia Clementine.

Dawn came, heralding the night’s end.

The curtains drew open for the final day of the Fire Emblem War.


	15. Final Day

- _Final Day_ -

“The door still isn’t fixed.”

Guardian entered the quiet church, where Friedemann stood alone, bowing with unrestrained respect. He said nothing- no apologies, no excuses- and awaited the Manakete’s next words.

“Well, no matter,” she said, approaching the priest, “Lancer’s just outside…and Saber will be joining soon.”

Friedemann raised his head in confusion.

“Lancer didn’t challenge you?”

“No…it seems he’s waiting for Saber,” Tiki said, discarding her hood, “and depending on the result of their outcome…I may be in trouble.”

“You? But, you are…”

“I am a divine dragon…but I am just one person, Friedemann. If they decide to face me together, I won’t win…even Lancer alone, at full strength, would be a great struggle to fight.”

“What if your opponent was Saber, alone?”

“In that case,” Guardian answered, turning to face the open doorway, “a fight would be the least of my troubles.”

Gradually, she opened her previously wounded eye, now free of Nidhogg’s curse, as a passive, kind smile rose to her face.

“No matter what happens…it will all end today. At long last…”

* * *

Felicia’s heart pounded the moment she saw Gracia.

Nothing could have prepared her for the swarm of emotions the woman across this clearing inspired within her. A manic grin rose to her face as the anticipation for this confrontation boiled through her insides.

“Yo, Grace. Been a long ten years, huh?”

“…Yeah.”

With no fanfare, Gracia immediately drew her gun, firing at the redhead with her typical impassive expression. Had Felicia been anyone else, this simple and abrupt act would have taken her off guard.

But she knew Gracia. She knew how she operated; surprise, sneak, and subversive attacks, exploiting any openings offered.

In a flash of flames, the Clementine mage reinforced her entire body, blocking the initial bullet. With a flick of the wrist, balls of fire arced towards the assassin in response, who found cover among the trees, letting the projectiles explode on the ground.

Such basic attacks wouldn’t even begin to touch a person like Gracia Alcott; but that wasn’t the point of them in the first place, and both of them knew it.

Felicia’s grin darkened. Already, she was doing better than last time- and things were just heating up. She extended an arm sideways, conducting small, flickering flames at her feet.

“Ignite,” she commanded, spreading fire across the clearing, and calling out to her hidden foe, “I’ll burn down the whole forest if I have to! Sooner or later, I’ll smoke you out!”

Gracia clicked her tongue, pressed up against a tree and keeping an eye on the pyromaniac establishing her territory. If there was ever a worse match for the assassin, she’d loathe to find out. Already, the heat was putting pressure on her.

Felicia’s magecraft was extremely potent and destructive. There was little doubt in her threat to landscape a large part of the island, and Gracia happened to be the only person in the world she’d go this far to kill.

On the other hand, Gracia’s magecraft was almost entirely anti-personnel. She could kill with physical contact, just like she could when charging an object- and she could use paralysing jolts of electricity from a limited range. But in order to make use of her magecraft, she’d have to get close enough to Felicia, who was now more than ready to incinerate her the moment she showed herself.

“Pretty cruel of you to not even say hi back at the Falkenburg Manor. You’ll try and kill the weaklings, the nonmages, even a kid- but you’ll go around avoiding me at every turn,” Felicia said sardonically, not actually expecting a response, “but hey, what can you do, right? Obviously, winning the Emblem takes priority over a reunion party.”

Felicia’s words barely registered in Gracia’s mind. The redhead was taunting emotions that the blonde mage didn’t possess- not for other people, anyway.

The assassin silently created more distance between them as the fire advanced; curiously, the inferno was spreading at an unnatural rate, not always covering everything in its path, as though…

“She can…control it all?” she hissed; from a rough estimate, that would mean Felicia had total dominance over an area with a diameter of over a hundred meters…and growing. She could probably expand her sensory awareness using the fire as a medium.

The amount of raw power Felicia Clementine possessed was staggering. She wasn’t just creating a forest fire, or giving herself a terrain advantage…

She was practically becoming one with the forest.

“Ah, dip, this isn’t gonna go unnoticed,” Felicia sighed, examining the beginnings of her handiwork, “I’ll have to plant some cans of oil around the place later. Stupid shitty priest, making me cover for myself like this…”

What a rare feeling of elation, she noted, that not even the thought of Friedemann could kill her mood.

* * *

Outside the church, the bitter chill of the morning permeated the air. The weak morning light provided little comfort in the eerie, open and empty street, where Lancer patiently stood, spear in hand.

He was ready.

Ready for the Servant running toward him.

The paladin registered no surprise upon seeing Saber’s undisguised form, her long hair fluttering with her cape as she moved, stopping only a few metres away from Lancer.

“…Lancer. Guardian passed through here, right?”

“You are correct. She entered the church.”

Falchion gleamed in Lucina’s hand, battle ready.

“Let me pass. I need answers that only she can provide.”

“You are free to enter the church,” Lancer said, placing a hand on his bike, “but only after we have fought. The war can only end so long as one of us falls here.”

Saber’s eyes narrowed as the spearman mounted the vehicle.

“Our Masters are doing battle to give us an advantage in our own fight. Why don’t we give it our all, too?”

“Fine,” Lucina said, “I won’t hold back. I may not be the Hero-King, but I’ll take you…Camus, the Sable.”

“It doesn’t matter who you are to me. Nor does it matter what you refer to me as. You and I have experience fighting wars with little care for our own names…perhaps this is a trait we share.”

Revving the motorbike, Lancer continued, “yes, on this battlefield…our identities mean nothing. We are nameless avatars of everlasting war- the lives we took, the countries we fought for, the injuries and wounds we sustained, all lost to time itself.”

Lucina’s mind was cast back to the scores of battles she’d been a part of- voluntarily or not- all of which ended the same way. Not until the stench of blood overloaded the senses, not until one side had more casualties than survivors…

“And, as we continue down this path, this war we carry shall only persist…” Lucina said, “Lancer. You asked me, a few nights ago, what my wish was; now, I will show you that I have a desire strong enough to carry me to the end of this bloodstained path.”

There we no joy in Lancer’s look of approval, but it signified his acknowledgement of Saber’s will. Both heightened their concentration, falling into their respective combat stances.

The calm before the storm, the silence before the initial clash, filling a matter of seconds before the fierce conflict began.

It was nothing like their first duel.

This was an all-out battle, and neither saw the need to pull their punches.

The two divine weapons clashed with immense force and blinding speed. Lucina saw each of Lancer’s strikes before they happened, reacting to each swiftly, evading at each possible opportunity.

But the paladin was faster on his mount, able to shake off Saber’s advance and circle around her, as he applied tremendous pressure on her with each of his blows.

It was rather like fighting Marth had been-

But unlike back then, his opponent now had no allies to cover her.

With a thrust of Gradivus, Lucina was knocked off balance, but she arced backwards to avoid the follow up, rolling in front of the bike as it turned. With a yell, she swung her blade at the vehicle.

A sound strategy- without his mount, Lancer would have a severe disadvantage.

However, he knew this better than anyone. Stabbing his spear into the road, he swung his bike into the air, smacking Saber with a tyre from the side and landing smoothly back on the road.

She’d seen it coming- but she’d failed to fathom her foe’s resourcefulness and mobility, and taken a direct hit.

“As if something like this would stop me...!”

The woman steadied her breath, gripping Falchion with both hands, and falling into her favoured combat stance. She’d been thrown a fair distance away, but Lancer would close the gap in a heartbeat.

As the spearman charged forward, his weapon erupted with its divine aura; it closed in on Lucina, whose eyes widened in shock, her instincts screaming that blocking this blow would be a lethal mistake.

With all the speed she could muster, she leapt away, the powerful strike punching through the air and tearing through her cape. Saber was unharmed, but her ears buzzed from the proximity of the shockwave.

The swordsman ripped off what remained her torn cape, and found her stance again, assessing the man in her sights.

Camus was powerful, and once heralded as the greatest knight in all of Akaneia. Out of all the opponents she’d faced, in life, in the Outrealm, and in this war…

He was perhaps the mightiest of them all.

“…I won’t lose. For my comrades…I will win this war!”

* * *

Adelina opened her eyes, once again met with the sight of an unfamiliar room as she awakened. She really hated how accustomed she was to this feeling. Already, she’d started to forget what her own room looked like; it’d been so plain, so unremarkable.

She used to enjoy simplicity so much- but now that she’d seen how other people lived, such a bare, empty room didn’t feel like home anymore.

This room- Felicia’s, in fact- was a total mess.

Books, tomes, and strange magical objects were haphazardly stacked on a desk on top of various scrolls and loose pages. There was no rhyme or reason; it was a reflection of the mage’s work ethic, which- Adelina noted with mild amusement- was a stark contrast to her uncle’s orderly, methodical style.

But that wasn’t all. Various devices, broken, modified, picked apart, and some untouched, all littered across any available surface, including the floor. In one corner, several computers had been piled on top of each other, with a myriad of cables protruding from them to a set of monitors above.

That kind of stuff was beyond the sheltered cleric. She couldn’t begin to guess what any of it did- but she was extra careful not to step on anything as she climbed out of bed.

It was weird, but Felicia had told her maid to let Adelina sleep in her room, since it had the most comfortable bed. The maid had complied without question, dutifully handing the owner of the household some food and drink before allowing her to leave. Then, the maid- Kassie- had led the girl to the master bedroom, where Adelina had flopped into bed without second thought, getting some much needed sleep.

Kassie had left a bell on the bedside table for when she woke up, so the cleric gave it a ring as her stomach gurgled. After only a couple of minutes, the door opened, and a young woman entered the room, performing a neat curtsy.

“Good morning, Miss Adelina. Did you sleep well?” Kassie greeted with a polite smile on her face.

“Uhm, yeah…thank you,” Adelina responded awkwardly. If there’s one thing she wouldn’t get used to, it was being treated so formally.

“Would you like breakfast? I can have it brought here if that would suit your preferences.”

“S-sure.”

The maid curtsied again, and began leaving-

“Ah, uhm, actually-”

Adelina wasn’t sure why she’d stopped Kassie, especially when the maid tilted her head in confusion.

“I’d…like to ask you some things. If that’s okay,” the girl said, placing the bell back on the table. An odd plush next to it caught her eye; a fading pink Taguel toy that was probably around as old as Adelina herself.

“This is…? Oh, I didn’t expect Miss Clementine to like cute things…” she mindlessly commented.

“It’s very strange. My lady has a peculiar attachment to that particular plush,” Kassie explained, “she won’t say where she got it, nor does she express any interest in anything else like it. She’s also forbidden me and the other maids in her employ from touching it.”

Upon hearing this, Adelina’s hand jerked away, fearing Felicia’s wrath.

“Of course, I’m not paid to understand her, but I just can’t seem to fathom her habits sometimes,” the maid continued, “even privy to some of her deepest secrets, I can never understand what’s going on in her mind.”

“Her deepest secrets…hm…” the girl echoed, causing the maid to inexplicably blush. Before she could inquire, Kassie had wiped the look off her face.

“Anyway, what I wanted to ask was…have you got any healing staves here?”

“Staves? Certainly. I am able to use a few of my own.”

Adelina nodded, slowly picking her next words.

“…There’s…something I need to do-”

Her resolute statement was interrupted by her stomach making desperately pleading noises.

“A-after breakfast, that is…ahah…”

* * *

The wildfire violently blazed, heating the forest far past the winter norm. The air was thin, the smoke was thick; one mage was in her element, the other was well outside it. Gracia wasn’t worried about running out of breath- she could filter what she breathed in with magecraft- but the high temperature was starting to greatly affect her.

Covered in sweat, the assassin tore off part of her clothing. She considered throwing it into the inferno, but that would alert her enemy- and if she was going to do that, she’d need to plan around that.

Right now, she needed to focus on learning as much as she could about Felicia’s fire. There were subtle different kinds mixed in to this expanding area, each under the mage’s direct control, a testament to her ability.

Some of it burnt regularly, at a set pace. Some didn’t burn at all- the flames were almost like an illusion. It was easy to think of it as a trap, and Felicia could easily change the type of fire at will to make it roast whatever it had caught on…but its true purpose currently was likely to give her senses a boost. Not sight- Gracia was standing in view of it- but probably sound and touch.

The goal, then, was to delude Felicia’s senses.

The assassin wiped sweat off her face with a look of distaste. She wasn’t a fan of direct confrontations, and took little pleasure in fighting. All she saw it as was a means to an end to kill her target- who she never cared for in any way.

And even with all that aside…

Felicia was ruining a perfectly pleasant forest with her flamboyant display of power.

“If you you’re just running away, this won’t be any fun…” the fire mage muttered, surveying the immediate vicinity; flames or no flames, it was hard to see through the dense area of the forest beyond the clearing. If she continued on like this, Gracia may find an opening to exploit, as unlikely as that seemed.

In that case, it was time to make the open space wider.

“Hey, Grace. Y’know something cool? My magecraft is like set of chain reactions, one after the next. Just like a nuke,” Felicia started saying, “why am I telling you this? Well, other than letting you know I am capable of some nuke-level shit, I just think it’s worth reminding you that things are only gonna get hotter. Also, I want to make sure I have your attention for this…”

Raising a hand into the air, the mage snapped her fingers, changing the colour of the fire in her immediate vicinity.

Azure flames, enveloping the fierce orange inferno, blanketing the closest trees in the vicinity-

And leaving absolutely nothing behind.

A ruthless, merciless flame, destroying all life, leaving not even a single ash in its wake.

Any sort of cover her opponent could be hiding behind was flattened methodically, one by one, layer by layer.

Felicia’s first wave of fire had created a path…and now this second wave was destroying it.

This was bad. Gracia could keep running, but this was a new level of pressure; she needed to get close to her target, and yet all she was doing was creating distance. Felicia had surrounded herself with a small ring of fire again, since the blue flames left nothing in their wake. It was like a boundary, a barrier- if the assassin could get past that, she may be able to reach the fire mage…

A plan began to formulate in her mind, but it hinged on her last resort.

Light magecraft- or, at least, something that could be seen as breaking that boundary.

It followed on from the magecraft she used to eliminate her presence from cameras, but unlike that, she could only keep it up for a very limited amount of time.

Seconds, even. At most, she had five seconds as soon as she activated it.

Gracia had to lure Felicia closer…perhaps her torn clothing would come in handy here.

“Gee, I’d feel bad if I killed you before being honest with you. I guess I’ll have to make do, though. You are…shockingly hard to talk to,” Felicia said, standing alone with her burning shield as the barren landscape grew around her. She silently cursed her unintentional pun.

Moments afterward, she felt something off making contact with outer ring of flames. It felt like some kind of fabric-

Clothing.

Gracia’s clothing.

She was, without a doubt, in that area to the northeast. Since the assassin was incredibly careful to cover her tracks, that could have only been an intentional move- a direct message to her.

What was she after?

Probably trying to draw her in- and if that was so, then that was fine by Felicia. She needed smoke out Gracia, and the easiest way to do that was to torch more of the forest.

The forest fire was miles wide now, the empty hole in the forest was a significant portion of the area inside. Covering this up would be a bitch, but that was something she could handle after obtaining the Fire Emblem.

As she approached the crawling barrier of blue flames, readying some more magecraft, she felt rumble from afar, akin to an earthquake.

“Whoa…that must be Lancer. I should chuck him the last of my reserves when I’m done here.”

Grinning, Felicia returned to her attention to her own battle. She’d never been able to cut loose like this before, and she’d never be able to do it again.

Another loud noise broke her concentration, this time from within her range of vision; a tree, untouched by her flames, creaking forward, collapsing directly into the inferno. There was no danger of it hitting Felicia, but with a snap of her fingers, she sent her flames directly up to meet it.

The tree disintegrated before it hit the ground, making no further noise.

It was strange, though…

The woman reinforced her body again, bracing herself for an assault.

But nothing came at her.

Felicia couldn’t relax-

The sensation of soft, slender fingers covered her mouth. There was no reaction- she couldn’t react, even if she tried. The mage fell backwards, the flames around her extinguishing as she lost all feeling in her body.

Gracia Alcott had- somehow- fried almost all the nerves in her body. She’d shocked her with an almost lethal charge, sparing only her vital functions.

“Ah- ahg-”

Only guttural noises emerged from Clementine’s throat; she couldn’t twitch even a finger.

Her eyes could see, her mind could think.

Her heart could beat.

“More of a challenge than you were before,” Gracia commented in monotone, massaging her burnt hand that she’d used to make direct contact with her foe, “glad I didn’t let that drag out too long.”

Though her hand and arm was burnt, her body was soaked in sweat and grime, and her clothes were in tatters, the assassin seemed in relatively good shape.

“Gh- aguh-” Felicia tried speaking again, only this time eliciting tears of frustration when she failed.

“That falling tree wasn’t a diversion. It was my ride,” Gracia explained, dragging her fallen target toward a burnt tree, “I ran up it before you destroyed it, and used it to clear the boundary.”

Felicia was propped up against a tree as the Alcott mage continued, “I can totally erase my presence for five seconds. No sound, no sight, nothing. I alter the space around me with electricity, manipulating light itself, so I’m basically outside the visible spectrum for some time. In layman’s terms, I can turn invisible.”

Light magecraft. She’d used a trick of the light- something thought to be impossible- to beat her.

“You were kind enough to talk yourself up, Clementine, so I figured I’d do the same,” Gracia said, twirling her gun in her hand, “but I still need you for something, so sit tight, okay?”

After those ominous words, the assassin slinked away from Felicia’s view, who was left to stew in her frustration and failure.

* * *

The street outside the church was in ruins.

Craters of varying sizes adorned the road, with rubble littered as far as the eye could see. A blanket of dust covered the air, kicked up by the ferocious speed of Lancer’s bike and the force behind each of the Servants’ attacks.

Lancer was fighting for what he believed in; his Master, whose eyes were set on the prize awaiting them. Her wish was his, and his path as Felicia’s knight was one he could be proud to travel. Each of his blows carried the conviction he held at his very core, allowing him to show the true might of his divine spear.

Saber’s goal was almost entirely the opposite. Her Master’s wish had the potential to exterminate all human life, and Lucina was not about to just sit by and let it happen- especially since she’d already seen a similar outcome happen once before. As she fought on, a rising sense of urgency rattled her core, threatening her focus in battle.

“Impressive footwork, Saber,” Lancer said, after his opponent backflipped away from another lightning fast lunge, “or should I be complimenting your instinct?”

“If I didn’t have the agility to match my visions, I’d be long dead by now,” Lucina responded, taking an opportunity for a brief reprieve.

“You were able to predict my movements during our first duel…and using that, you acted as though you were familiar with my combat style. If you hadn’t needed a mask, I would have been sure you were Marth from the very moment we met.”

“And had I been able to remember your appearance past that first duel, I would have identified you much sooner. I’ve seen Gradivus passed through many hands- but none have wielded it as masterfully as you.”

The paladin didn’t offer a reaction to Saber’s compliment, twirling his weapon in preparation for their renewed bout. He was faintly surprised, as he was sure she was going to take the opportunity to use her Noble Phantasm.

She had various gashes and light wounds all across her body- nothing fatal, but enough for a distracting level of pain. Lucina was a stubborn fighter, it seemed.

Screeching tyres prefaced Lancer’s next barrage of blows, which his foe bent backwards to dodge, leaping over a sweeping arc to aim at the paladin’s head, who ducked and accelerated out of the way.

Spinning upon landing, Lucina inhaled deeply, taking a single step as Lancer spun to charge at her.

As she exhaled, her shining sword- and her body- moved in three separate directions.

Above.

Forward.

Below.

“This is-?!” the paladin grunted, spinning his spear to block all three- but only making contact with the lower blade.

The swordsman beautifully followed up with three more simultaneous moves, trailing through the air like leaves in the wind; ready to cut through her foe, or his vehicle.

To counter, Gradivus’ aura roared to life, and the spearman swiped across the ground at Saber’s feet, digging up huge chunks of debris that scattered through the air. Lucina was knocked off balance, all three of her paths disrupted by the pieces of the road. She barely evaded Lancer’s successive downward strike.

It truly was the Spear of Divine Rending.

The earth tremored as the road cracked beneath them, splitting apart with a further gigantic rumble that rocked as far as the deep forest and the inner part of Nagilis. Lucina couldn’t remain upright, staggering as far away from the large crevice that threatened to swallow her whole.

Even Lancer was forced to make some distance, in an effort keep his bike out of harm’s way.

When the shaking ceased, Saber picked herself up, wincing in pain. Her right leg was bloodied and sluggish, her chest was searing with pain, and one of her eyes was blinded by a trail of her own blood.

Clenching her teeth, she held Falchion aloft-

“So it’s come to this.”

In the middle of her vision, Lancer- Noble Phantasm still active, ready to throw- on the other side of the fissure.

The moment she uttered her sword’s true name, she would be wiped off her feet by Gradivus.

“The only way it could end…” Saber said. She had no other options; to challenge this paladin with limited mobility was an exercise in futility. Her leg needed healing, but healing was a death sentence.

…She could only gamble everything on this moment.

“I’m very curious to know how potent Falchion’s healing powers are,” Lancer said, “and I’d like to settle things quickly, just as I’m sure you do also.”

Lucina nodded.

She had hope- the very blade she proudly held above her was a testament to her enduring belief and commitment to never giving up. Her will was steel-

And her soul was bright.

“ _Falchion!_ ”

“ _Gradivus!_ ”

Two concurrent cries, a burst of sacred light, and a shooting star-

It happened in under a second.

Even with her full instinct showing her the spear that was too fast for even the most well-trained eyes, Lucina knew she could never dodge it.

So rather that dodge it-

She took it head on.

The Servant stepped forward, and Lancer’s Noble Phantasm punched through her, obliterating half her body and blasting through the forest behind her.

Any other version of the Blade of Light could heal wounds beyond the capabilities of normal healing magic, but for Lucina, it wouldn’t have been enough. By the time the healing would have taken effect, she would have died.

But her version, the Parallel Blade, was special- it was the key to time.

As long as Falchion was in her grip, and she bathed in its holy light, Saber could make time rewind for her body, returning it to its peak, no matter what sort of fatal blow she’d received.

Her torso didn’t regrow- it returned to her, as she hurled herself over the crevice and at her greatest foe, roaring with every ounce of determination and energy left in her body.

Gradivus returned to Lancer’s hand, but it was too late; Lucina plunged her blade into the motorbike, tearing through it with a yell, as Falchion raised upwards, slicing through the paladin’s chest.

Both toppled over from the momentum, Saber righting herself quickly while Lancer skidded across the shredded road, letting out a restrained gasp as the pain took hold.

“G-g-grk…”

“A close call…in the end, the blessings of Naga saved me once again…” Lucina said, pointing her sword at her foe, “it looks like I win, Lancer.”

“Re…markable. I admit defeat,” he responded simply, closing his eyes, waiting for the end. Although he had Battle Continuation, his dwindling mana reserves and lack of bike were a death sentence against Saber at her prime.

Thus, all he could do was wait for the end.

But the final blow never came. The swordsman smiled, lowering her weapon.

“…Why?”

“Your Master is in danger. You want to save her, don’t you?”

The paladin frowned, unable to comprehend the other Servant’s words. Seeing this, Lucina outstretched out her hand, in an offer to help.

“You have enough strength to go to her, right? Now isn’t the time to give up. You can still make it if you hurry!”

Lancer regarded the hand with a stunned look- then, after a chuckle, he took it, allowing Saber to help him up, and using his spear as support.

“You understand…that your own Master will be in danger…should you allow me to leave, yes?”

“I do. And that…may be for the best.”

“You’re betraying her…?”

“Yes. I must stop my Master from obtaining the Emblem at all costs. The world will not be safe if she is allowed to make her wish a reality.”

“To turn against…one’s own lord…haha. Such an ironic scenario…to witness,” Lancer panted, staggering toward the forest, “however, it was an honour…finally doing battle against the Sword of Light. I thank you…for allowing me to serve my Master, until my very last breath.”

Lucina watched the noble warrior- whose name mattered little- leave before turning her sights to the church.

Guardian awaited within…

The end of the Fire Emblem War was nigh.

* * *

Felicia’s Servant staggered through the forest, reaching blackened, charred trees that indicated he was close to finding his Master. With renewed vigour, he limped into the clearing, clutching his spear with the last of his strength.

“Master!” he exclaimed, rushing to the woman’s side; she was sat up against a burnt tree, immobile and alone. As Lancer neared her, he noticed with relief that she was only unconscious, and not dead.

The gaping wound Saber had given him went diagonally across his chest through to his shoulder, rendering one of his arms limp and useless. As he knelt by Felicia’s side, Gradivus dematerialised to free up his working hand, which reached out to his Master.

Without warning, a dagger flew out of thin air, directly into the paladin’s wound, tipping him over. Normally, an attack like that would do very little to him- but he was severely weakened, and barely hanging on.

The perpetrator came into view, like a mirage; a blonde woman, levelling a gun at Felicia’s head.

“Lancer, hm? Looks like Saber really did a number on you,” the woman stated.

“…Gracia Alcott. What are you planning?”

“Planning? Hm…” the assassin considered the Heroic Spirit’s words, “this wasn’t really part of the plan, if I’m honest. But Saber is predictable; I figured she wouldn’t finish you.”

“Nngh…” Lancer tried standing, but Gracia’s foot slammed down on the embedded dagger, driving it further in.

“I need you to die. That’s all. Saber can’t lose against Guardian, so the Emblem will be as good as mine after this,” the mage said, “fight back, and Felicia gets a bullet through the brain.”

“Damn you…!”

“This would be so much faster if you didn’t have high magic resistance. Knight classes are so troublesome…”

The Servant could barely force out words, his hand stretching out to his Master.

“You used up most of your reserves against Saber, and Clementine wasted a ton of mana to destroy this forest. In short, it’s only a matter of time now…”

Gracia frowned, cutting herself short, as she watched Lancer’s hand clasp Felicia’s with the last of his strength. This contact seemed to stir the woman, her eyes making contact with her Servant’s, and slowly widening as the horror of the situation sunk in.

“I’m glad…fate led me to your side…Felicia Clementine…”

Tears welled up and streaked down Felicia’s face, who could do nothing but watch her Servant fade away, showing her one last kind look before he was gone for good.

“…How? Why?” Gracia murmured, watching the scene with a familiar feeling, “how does everyone else…why can I not…?”

The inert woman watched the assassin, who huffed in irritation. Her gun was still aimed at Felicia’s head, who she gazed at with an empty look.

“…This is goodbye, Clementine.”

* * *

Slow, measured footsteps led Saber into the church. In her hand, Falchion shone with its sacred light, illuminating the dingy building.

“So it was you…Tiki.”

Guardian warmly gazed upon Lucina, who stood, rooted in place after entering. Her own expression was pained, unable to make eye contact.

“Welcome, Lucina. I’m glad we could meet, just one more time.”

“…The Fire Emblem must have a twisted sense of humour. Of all the people it could make me point my blade at…why you?”

“It’s like I always thought,” Tiki said, still sporting an unwavering smile, “you are most like Marth when you stay true to yourself.”

Saber’s eyes widened; it was the woman in front of her that had first taught her of the Hero-King’s true nature, and how it compared to her own.

It was Tiki who taught her the burden of the name ‘Marth’, a name that Lucina had carried with her, through life, death, and to this very war.

And now, it was Tiki filling the role of Guardian- her last challenge before she could obtain her wish.

As Lucina hesitated, a man behind the Manakete made himself known, respectfully bowing to Saber in greeting.

“Saber. Congratulations on making it this far,” the priest said, “I am Father Friedemann Scheuer, a humble servant of Naga, and overseer of this most holy war.”

The Servant nodded in a daze as Friedemann continued, “as you are acquainted with Guardian, I offer all hospitality there is left at this stage. You must have questions- perhaps I can answer them for you.”

Lucina let out a shaky breath.

Tiki was a dear friend, one who’d provided her with so much guidance and wisdom- and now, she had to cut her down in order to fulfil her own selfish, stubborn desires.

She wondered what her friend thought of her wish-

Yes, Saber had questions. So many, she didn’t know where to start.

“Where is the Emblem?” she asked, still looking down.

“Right here. Guardian holds it; it sustains her, so long as she follows its desires.”

“So…there’s no way around it, then…”

“Yes. In order to claim the Fire Emblem, you must first destroy its vessel,” Friedemann answered, as Guardian’s expression turned serious, “once six Servants have been defeated, the last remaining is the victor. The Emblem is theirs.”

The priest began circling the two Heroic Spirits, speaking with excitement and pleasure, “should Guardian be the winner- as has been the case in all previous recorded wars- then the seal is reinforced, and the Fire Emblem goes dormant until the next war. But should another Servant win, they bridge a path for their Master to grasp the almighty, endless power.”

“So…if I take…Tiki’s life now, would that mean…”

“So long as your Master lives- in other words, you have an anchor to this world- you will merely act as the catalyst for your Master to obtain their wish.”

“But, then- why does the Emblem choose heroes with lingering regret, then? If they will never get their desires fulfilled, then what are they fighting for?!” Lucina shouted, finally raising her head.

“Should your Master fall before seizing the Fire Emblem, then the Servant earns the right to make their wish. However, the Fire Emblem prioritises the desires of the current day rather than the past- hence why Masters are given the choice over their Servant,” Guardian said, in place of Friedemann, who had more to add.

“Masters also have the opportunity to pass up their wish, and give their Servant their wish instead.”

“…That won’t be happening here,” Saber muttered bitterly.

“I cannot say I am aware of Gracia Alcott’s desires,” Guardian said, having noticed Lucina’s wavering commitment to her Master, “nor can I fathom how her mind works. However, if you are truly opposed to her…”

She glanced at the priest momentarily.

“Friedemann. You upheld your promise…I’ll allow you to state your piece.”

“My lady…! Ah, praise be to Naga!” Friedemann cried, his knees shaking, his eyes shining, “Saber, allow me to offer you an alternative!”

Lucina regarded the priest with suspicion, but indicated for him to continue.

“I believe this will satisfy us both…yes! If you do not want your Master to obtain the Emblem, then I can help you…dispose of her.”

“What’s in it for you…?”

“In return, I would like to form a contract with you, and become your new Master.”

The Servant’s frown deepened.

“That effectively leaves me in the same position, then. How can I trust you, and your wish to be any better?”

Guardian hadn’t interrupted, so she seemed fine with it- but why?

“Have no fear. My only desire is to see the seal broken with my own two eyes- and for that to occur, the wish upon the Emblem must be a pure, wholehearted one. It cannot be a simple, petty whim- the wish must be a need, a core part of the wishmaker’s life. A lifelong dream…a last resort…yes, I am confident yours will suffice. You are capable of breaking the seal…!”

Friedemann stretched his arms to the heavens, gazing upward.

“I must see her! I must see Naga’s true form…! This is my one chance- the moment I have been waiting for my whole life!”

“You…”

Lucina was taken back by the priest’s devout passion, leading Guardian to close her eyes calmly after a small sigh.

“He speaks the truth; his faith is genuine. That much, I can guarantee.”

The offer was yet more oil in the flames of Saber’s internal toil, a struggle to weigh out her desires and find the right choice to make.

Not only that, something the priest had said was bugging her.

“What’s this about…Naga’s true form? A seal?” she asked, unsure who to focus on.

“Where do you think this Fire Emblem originated? How did such a powerful, vast source of magical power come to be?” Friedemann said, “there have been many devices and objects bearing its name in the past. All of them have held the same function- a seal on a greater power, normally too much to be allowed freedom in this world.”

“A seal…”

“This Fire Emblem is a self-imposed seal; as the era of wars and mystery drew to an end, Naga placed her very existence on the line, gathering the strongest mages to seal her away and construct the challenge we know as the Fire Emblem War in order to test the convictions of the people.”

“Naga…sealed herself away?”

“Her role as a guiding light for the world diminished as the age of mystery ended, but she couldn’t simply abandon the people she’d watched for thousands of years. So she reduced herself to a mystery- confined to a powerful seal- with the promise to grant the wish of whoever frees her.”

“Whether it was benevolence that drove her, or something else, I cannot say,” Guardian followed on from Friedemann’s explanation, “but the souls of seven Heroic Spirits is enough to renew the seal after each war. So, when Guardian wins, their soul becomes the final piece to reinforce Naga’s seal, and the next generation is given the chance to obtain the Emblem.”

Lucina went silent.

Naga had led her from one era to the next in her search for a place to belong…

Was this war just another step in her path? Was it not the end?

“…Tiki. If I raise my sword against you…would you fight me?”

“Is there any point?” the Manakete responded, “with Falchion, you could finish me in one blow, whether or not I transform.”

“You wouldn’t…even try?”

“Are you asking if my strong feelings towards you would interfere with my duty?”

Awkwardly, Saber nodded.

“I can’t deny it…I would prefer not to fight you. After all…you’re one of the few people I felt truly close to.”

“Is that so…” Lucina said, relaxing, and finally smiling at her old friend, “I’m happy we met again, Tiki. I’m thankful Naga gave me this opportunity, but I…”

Both Guardian and Friedemann watched, startled, as Saber raised her blade, spun it to face downward…

And aimed it at her own abdomen.

“Saber?! What about-”

“My wish? I’m not giving up. But I don’t want to accept that Naga would have me sacrifice my friend in order to claim a wish- a wish, meant for the people of this time. I’ll just look elsewhere…and I’ll find it with my own power. Naga’s helped me enough already.”

“Are you sure about this?” Tiki could hardly stop herself from stepping forward as she watched her trusted friend brace herself.

“Yes. I’m not about to give up my morals now, after all I’ve been through. If it means more fighting- then fine, so be it. I’ve been through so much already. I’ll never give up!”

“You would deny this chance? Your wish could be fulfilled!” Friedemann cried desperately, his face paling as he watched the Heroic Spirit’s shining blade, aimed squarely at its own wielder.

“I know. This is selfish- especially when I think of how long my comrades have been fighting for the same cause. But…” the girl tightened her grip on her Noble Phantasm, “I think they’d all agree with me.”

“No! Think- if you fall here, you may never get another chance! Don’t-”

A piercing noise filled the church, as the priest’s words suddenly ceased.

The man crumpled to the floor lifelessly, like a doll.

As blood poured out of his head, Lucina’s heart leapt to her throat. A cold, merciless realisation led her to turn her head, looking behind her.

A smoking gun.

“Good work, Saber. Now then…”

At those words, her entire body stiffened. Her mind screamed in terror as the same word passed her lips.

“No. No, no…please,” she whispered ineffectually. Her Master paid her no mind, raising her hand bearing her authority over the Servant.

“With my Command Seal, I order you, Saber…kill Guardian.”

“No…please! _NO!_ ”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears; the red glow had sealed their fates. Her arms moved with a mind of their own, driving Falchion directly through Tiki, who made no effort to resist.

“Tiki…why…this can’t be…happening…”

Guardian slumped forward, her head resting on Lucina’s shoulder. Gently, she raised her hand, wiping away the tears rolling down her cherished friend’s face.

“Don’t cry…Mar-Mar…” the Manakete said soothingly, as blood poured from her chest, covering the sword and its wielder. After mere moments, Guardian’s body faded, and the swordsman fell onto her knees, dropping her weapon with a look of defeat.

“It’s here,” Gracia said, as a shining ball of light floated away from where Guardian had been, growing into a formless rift in the air. Although it had such brilliant, intense light, the woman didn’t need to shield her eyes.

“One last task, Saber. With my Command Seal, I order you…give me the Fire Emblem.”

Another red flash.

Hopelessly, Lucina rose to her feet, this time not even fighting her Master’s authority, as her hand limply extended toward the light above-

There, and then, the Fire Emblem War ended.


	16. Fire Emblem

- _Fire Emblem_ -

There were no sounds.

There were no smells.

There were no sensations.

There was nothing other than the view she was so accustomed to.

Was this a battlefield she’d fought on? A view of her own memories? Or was this a new experience?

It didn’t feel real-

It felt as though she was just a spectator this time.

Small, dying embers from destructive magic, bodies that had only just stopped expelling blood.

Mud, death, ruination, as far as the eye could see.

…There probably used to be a forest here. Blackened tree stumps could be made out within the vast post-battle debris.

Who had fought here? What for? Where was this?

These were questions she could not answer.

Numbly, she reached out, distorting her fragile vision.

Yet another scene suggesting turmoil; there were corpses, fallen buildings, smoke-

No weapons.

She turned around.

Six bodies behind her, arranged in a wide circle.

Ah, so that was it.

She realised she was Saber no more.

“This is…my last battlefield,” Lucina said, though no sounds were made.

“That is untrue. Your battle is eternal, Exalted one.”

It was her own voice- but she didn’t hear it. There was no sound here.

Rather, she felt the words come from within herself, even though they weren’t hers.

“Where am I?”

“You are…within the Fire Emblem,” the voice answered, “or rather, in the boundary of the Fire Emblem. From this place, you can look inside…”

The voice- her voice- paused, letting her process this information before continuing, “you are a unique case, as the first winner- but also as one who has received divine blessings. No Heroic Spirit could hold their form, the concept of their ‘self’, within this place otherwise.”

Yes, here, she was not Saber- but she was still Lucina.

“To hold the Fire Emblem- to act as its vessel- a Heroic Spirit must have a satisfactory level of divine blessing from Naga. Dragons, Manaketes, chosen heroes…the Guardian class is bound by different rules, but ultimately, they are Servants, just like any other. Any Servant can touch the Fire Emblem- without that blessing, however, they cannot retain their ‘self’.”

Lucina thought of Tiki-

Tiki’s blood, forever staining her hands.

“So, Guardians have wishes, too?”

“To be selected as Guardian, one must see the Fire Emblem’s calling as the highest import. Any wish, desire, or regret they have must be sacrificed in service of the Fire Emblem.”

Of the six bodies, her focus drifted to the most familiar one- the one she’d killed.

“Who are you…and why do you speak with my voice?”

“…You could say I am the Fire Emblem itself. In this boundary, I can take no form- I have no ‘self’ of my own. So I can only communicate with you by using you.”

In this boundary, this empty space, Lucina could barely hold herself together. Perhaps this voice- claiming to be the avatar of the Emblem- had lost itself to this void long ago.

“Could it be…?” a realisation dawned on her, “are you…Naga?”

“Naga is sealed within the Emblem. I am…a fraction of her, perhaps. I have no will, no desires, no love of my own. I have no body, no mind, no soul. I am nought but a facet for Naga’s will…the Emblem’s will.”

The vision slowly faded, leaving Lucina floating in anxiety, with only her thoughts to confirm she was still herself.

“I need to stop my…I need to stop Gracia Alcott. Please, let me enter the Emblem.”

“Your wish, or stopping Gracia Alcott? Which would you rather?”

“I…made that choice already. Or at least, I tried to…”

Her vision reawakened; the scenery before her was of great contrast to all else she’d seen her.

“You have learned the weight of sacrifice, Exalted one.”

“What…is this place?”

The land was pure white under a harsh, unrelenting blizzard. In it, a child waded through the thick snow, alone-

“…Desolation,” Lucina answered her own question.

“Now, you will spectate this miracle…Naga will finally be set free…”

* * *

Dulled with a lack of passion, the girl’s eyes watched the woman before her fall dead to the floor. She didn’t know who the woman was- just that, by killing her, she’d get a handy reward. With that reward, she’d be able to travel to another place, far away from this small town.

She had little care for whether the woman had a friends, loved ones, people who’d miss her, nor did she give any thought to the possibility that others’ lives may be improved with this woman gone.

Knife in hand, soaked in blood, the girl waited for her mind to grasp the reality of what she’d done.

She already had, though.

This woman was no different to her dead than she was alive.

The girl made a face as the strong stench of blood crawled up her nose. It wasn’t new to her. Her parents had smelt just like this when they’d been killed.

…And still, she felt nothing.

Well, there was no point staying here now. All she had to do was collect her reward, and move on.

The girl was nine years old.

This was the moment she’d become a killer.

“Are you showing me this for any particular reason?” Gracia asked out loud, confident that somebody was watching. Was there someone in the Emblem with her, or was it the Emblem itself?

There was no response.

Instead, the woman felt the sensation of a pistol discharging, filling a faceless man’s head with three bullets.

The first time she’d used a gun.

Even viewing these scenes again, nothing would change in her. She hardly recognised any of the victims, and none of their deaths had felt like momentous occasions. Killing was nothing special- it was something anyone could do, after all.

Gracia knew her frame of mind was perfect for killing. It was abnormal-

She was abnormal.

Apathy for all she met. It let her kill without remorse.

There was no pride in it. But she held the fleeting hope that one day, her own actions would disgust her. One day, she wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger.

Yes, she was more than prepared to give up everything for the chance to feel anything for another person.

Life hadn’t numbed her- she’d been born numb.

“Are you going to grant my wish or what? You must know it already, since you’re emptying out the contents of my skull and displaying them to me.”

How many had she killed? More than hundreds; the number was well into the thousands. She’d left no one alive, even after the rare times she’d fail.

Despite her apathy for others, people certainly felt for her in varying degrees- normally fear, loathing, hatred, and on a rare occasion, respect. It was only natural she’d have a reputation; she was the most potent assassin in the world.

The most potent _killer_.

Some kill in wars.

Some kill to defend themselves.

Some kill for pleasure.

Some kill out of revenge.

Some kill when they’ve lost something.

Some kill as a business.

No matter the reason one killed a person…

They were a killer. It was an unavoidable truth.

And in a world where wars were becoming less and less commonplace, Gracia simply happened to be the best at it- efficient, consistent, and sparing no mercy.

“Are you saying I’m not worthy because of all these killings?” Gracia said, starting to tire of watching her own memories, “a little contradictory then, isn’t it? Throwing people into a deathmatch, expecting us not to kill…”

After some time, the memories were swept away by a ruthless blizzard, thick white snow blanketing her field of view-

Back here, where a recently orphaned girl had wandered, lost…

But this was no memory. Not this time. Gracia wasn’t just watching events from her past replay in front of her; she was in the driving seat, wandering through the white wilderness.

No landmarks, no horizon; one may as well shut their eyes while blindly stumbling through this terrain.

But closing her eyes wouldn’t change anything. She’d still be here, again, reliving the agony of her childhood, with nothing to show for the years that had passed. The Fire Emblem was her last chance, and now that she’d reached it-

There was nothing.

“…Desolation.”

The murmur was swallowed by the cruel winds.

Was this what the Emblem was trying to show her? Was this all she could be?

With each meaningless step, years of curbed frustration and pain began to shatter the carefully built wall of patience Gracia had crafted to keep herself sound of mind.

It was rather akin to the blizzard around her.

“Like my own little Reality Marble…”

This was all she was. Empty, lost, and alone.

“It’s all in my head. No one will answer because no one’s there.”

Now, with her inner self unravelling within the Emblem…

It was time to speak of her desire.

“I have a wish,” Gracia spoke aloud, with only the fierce blizzard as her audience, “a desire I’ve held onto for so many years!”

The mage continued to stagger forwards as she made her proclamation.

“I would sacrifice anything! I have lived solely for this one reason! All I want is…”

Only now did she stop in her tracks, preparing to finally put her one true wish into words for the Fire Emblem.

“To share the world with a person I can feel for.”

What followed was silence.

Had the Emblem heard her wish? Gracia could only wonder; other than the calming weather, no change had occurred. As the snow cleared, her range of vision increased, and the assassin was able to spot a bright light ahead.

Fire.

As she neared it, Gracia was hit by the sensation of how intrusive, yet familiar it felt. Surrounded by plain white snow and an empty sky, the beacon of flames could not be any more of a stark contrast, even as it flickered quietly.

“Fire…but why? What of my wish?”

There was no answer. For she knew it already.

This place- the Emblem- was shaped after her heart. Her empty, desolate heart.

But…

Her vision had cleared, and now she could see this small flame.

“…You must be joking.”

This flame could be only one person.

* * *

“Miss Clementine! Miss Clementine! Oh, please wake up!”

When she got no response, Adelina took a deep breath to calm herself. A cosy, gentle light from her staff filled her vision as she gave the woman another nudge.

“Auntie Felicia?”

“Nnn…”

The mage stirred, opening her eyes and squinting at her saviour.

“Thank Naga…” Adelina said, sighing in relief, “I’m so glad I got here in time!”

Wincing as she sat up against a tree, Felicia attempted to ask all her pressing questions simultaneously, descending into a coughing fit as a result. The cleric took pity on her, casting another Mend and helping her sit upright.

“Augh…I’m still kinda sore. Spare me another heal, would ya?”

“I’m not surprised. You were almost dead…but this staff is running out of mana, so we should really save it for when it’s actually needed.”

Felicia clicked her tongue and scowled, rising to her feet with little difficulty.

“Alright…what happened?”

“Uh, why don’t you start? I just got here.”

“That’s a point. Why are you here?” the mage frowned suspiciously.

“I asked Kassie to bring me here. She’s not very happy with you. Didn’t you tell her anything about the war?”

“Uh…”

“Make sure you apologise to her later, okay?”

“You- that’s none of your- dammit. Fine, but that’s only _how_ you’re here. I’m asking _why_ -”

Hands on hips, Adelina raised her eyebrows, suggesting Felicia already knew the reason, and really didn’t need to hear clarification on the matter.

“Are you telling me…a follower of Naga…that I _need_ a reason to help someone?”

The mage gawked at the girl for a moment.

“Sheesh…how the hell did you turn out to be the polar opposite to Friedemann?”

“Eheh. I think it’s better that way, don’t you?”

After a soft smile, Felicia fell silent, surveying the destroyed forest with a pang in her chest.

“…I blew it, kid.”

With the relief of finding the mage alive passing, Adelina had begun to guess at what transpired in this ruined forest.

“I really thought things would be different, this time. I’m so much stronger than I was back then…”

The girl thought about saying something to reassure Felicia, but she simply had no idea what wouldn’t sound tone deaf in the situation.

“I lost my Servant, too. This sucks.”

“I know how that feels…”

The mage let out a dry laugh, but her expression was pained; Adelina respectfully remained quiet, understanding her sadness all too well.

With a weak thump, Felicia half-heartedly rammed her fist against a tree. She had neither the strength nor mind for frustration now.

“Worst of all…I got caught up in the moment. I got so excited about seeing Grace again that I never considered what was at stake.”

“What were you going to wish for...if you won?” Adelina asked.

“World peace.”

“I…don’t believe you.”

“Tough. But…” Felicia took a moment, “yeah. I don’t believe me either. Though I still want it, I…I think I have a different, more selfish wish now. It’s maddening, but there’s someon- something I never understood…”

The cleric shot her an inquisitive glance, but never got the chance to press the topic further.

“C’mon. It may be too late already, but let’s go to the church.”

“Right!”

To prevent her getting left behind, Felicia grabbed the girl’s wrist, and broke off into a dash, desperate to reach the church-

Desperate to find Gracia.

* * *

“Is this some kind of joke?” Gracia spat, feeling a sinking pit of dread in her stomach.

There had to be a mistake. The assassin felt nothing for Felicia, same as anyone else. She was a powerful, but easy to predict and manipulate mage, and had very little to do with her outside of their interactions in Nagilis.

Yet, here was this flame. A flame that was unmistakably the Clementine mage.

What was the Fire Emblem trying to tell her with this?

Did Felicia Clementine actually matter to her?

“…No. It’s simply too ridiculous.”

There was only one thing it could be. One irrational act. A meaningless peculiarity.

“Because I…spared her?”

Was ‘spared’ even the correct word? She’d left the mage with a fried nervous system, no ability to move, and close to death; without a miracle, Felicia would be dead within a day anyway.

Gracia reminded herself that in her line of work, all bets were off until the target’s pulse had stopped.

…But Felicia wasn’t a target. She was an obstacle- and one that had been cleared at that point. The assassin’s goal was the Fire Emblem, and once she knew Felicia couldn’t stop her, there was no point giving her any extra thought.

Her mind was in a conflicted loop.

Ah…were these all not simply excuses?

No matter the reason, Gracia had spared Felicia’s life. Something she’d never done before- something she’d never had reason to do before.

Yet…

She didn’t feel any different.

She didn’t feel anything.

“I should have killed her. Fine. I get it-”

No, she didn’t. The Emblem was showing her one thing, but her own heart was telling her another.

“I’ll kill her. Right now. Will you grant my wish then?”

There was still no response.

Gracia drew her gun, her hand quivering, her teeth clenched. There was no hesitation; she immediately fired at the dancing flames before her.

Again, she fired-

Again-

Again, and again.

The flickering fire was unaffected, but Gracia kept shooting relentlessly.

“I’ll kill her! I’ll kill her as many times as it takes!” she yelled, “I’ll kill anyone! Everyone!”

Click, click.

“I don’t care what I have to do! _Just give me my wish, dammit_!”

Her vision began to fog over as the blizzard kicked up again in response to her rage, and soon, she was unable to make out the flame. It was only then that her gun dropped to her side; she fell to her knees, blankly staring at nothing but where the flame had been.

“If…if that wasn’t enough, then…” Gracia murmured, “why…have I lived up until now?”

The blizzard howled, a bleak wind engulfing the empty woman.

From afar, a figure in blue watched the display with sorrow.

The Fire Emblem needed pure desire for the seal to be broken; Gracia’s wish had almost been that, had it not been for the existence of Felicia Clementine.

For even if it wasn’t the case now…

At one time, Gracia must have felt something for Felicia…but she’d been so numbed by her past- and ongoing- apathy for others that she hadn’t- and couldn’t- notice.

Lucina sadly gazed at her despondent former Master, as the snow dropped thicker and heavier than before.

“This is…the end,” she said simply. Her senses were fading; there was nothing left to witness.

Perhaps the world had been saved from Gracia’s potentially destructive desire…

But the hero could hardly feel happy about the outcome.

* * *

After over a week of mysterious, chaotic, and frightening disturbances, the commonfolk of Nagilis were happy to return to tentatively return to their normal lives after the seemingly last explosive event.

The Fire Emblem War ended with a bang, though one few were witness to; Felicia and Adelina reached the church just in time to watch it violently implode and collapse, the roof falling to the floor with a deafening crash.

To those who would come across the site later, it was merely an extension of the violently ruined street outside.

But to the two witnesses, it meant something else entirely.

As soon as the dust settled, Adelina rushed ahead, running around the huge crevice in the road. Felicia opted to trail behind, surveying the signs of battle fought on this road earlier.

“He really…gave it his all,” she muttered, “stupid.”

The woman spotted her broken motorbike.

“I told you not to- ugh. You better be glad you’re already dead! Dumbass…”

She finally caught up to Adelina past the church gates. The girl was visibly shaken; her home had been reduced to rubble…with her uncle and others presumably still inside.

“Addy. Stay behind me, okay?”

“…Okay.”

Felicia marched over to the ruins as Adelina inched behind her with great trepidation. Though she’d been thoroughly healed, the mage’s mana reserves were still low, and she’d be unable to utilise much magecraft. She planned to use reinforcement to clear some of the rubble, but she wasn’t confident she’d find much.

“Phew…better get on with it, I guess…”

Before she could make a start, the mage noticed a small pile of stones rumbling deeper into the church. Felicia hoped to whatever deity up high listening right then that whoever- or whatever- it was, it wasn’t hostile.

Bursting out of the rubble, rising to her feet slowly, a nude girl emerged, blue hair flowing freely in the wind. Paying no mind to the two watching her, the girl surveyed her own body, stretching her hands, arms and legs, as though it was all foreign to her.

“Is that…Saber?!”

Lucina looked down at her feet, frowning and shivering in the cold.

“Hey! What happened here? And-”

Felicia’s questions were cut short when Lucina made eye contact with her.

With this brief glance, Saber’s emotions were laid bare.

Sadness.

Loneliness.

Regret…

Felicia hadn’t the heart to press her questions, watching the blue haired girl leap away without uttering a word. She got the general gist, anyway. Things hadn’t gone to plan for Gracia, one way or another…

But the war was most definitely over.

With a grunt, Felicia got to work, hefting rubble and shattering anything too large to carry. She had to be quick; there was no telling when other people would notice what had happened here.

“I wonder why Saber was still here.”

“Other than her winning the war?”

“Even in that scenario, she should have vanished with the Fire Emblem,” Adelina said, “and in the event that the seal didn’t break, then I don’t see why she’d be around…unless…”

Talking was taxing to Felicia, but it was helping keep both their minds off what they might- or might not- find buried under the rubble.

“Unless?”

“Well…it’s a longshot, but…she might not be Saber anymore.”

“Speaking of which, was Marth always a girl?”

“No…?”

“Clearly, I missed a memo or two- oh, shit,” Felicia suddenly remarked, tossing aside a large stone and wrinkling her nose at what had been flattened underneath it.

“What is it?”

The woman grimaced, shaking her head. That was enough to give Adelina a general idea.

“From the looks of it, he got killed before he was crushed. Sorry, kid. Never would have wished this on the bastard myself.”

“Yeah…” the girl spoke numbly, sitting down quietly, leaving Felicia to continue her work. The mage decided to leave the priest’s body where it was, not wanting to create one extra question for the authorities that would eventually come across this bizarre scene.

Despite falling out with her uncle, despite his attempt to kill her, despite all his sins-

Adelina had firmly wished, from the bottom of her heart, that he could be saved. Perhaps in death, he’d found the salvation he’d longed for.

No tears would form. Of course not- she’d been through too much already. This was just…closure. Not in the way she wanted, and not at all satisfying in any way. But the ordeal was well and truly over now.

Adelina Scheuer had survived, and was free to live her life.

A long half hour passed. Felicia’s search was a fruitless endeavour, and so, once satisfied she’d thoroughly combed the church sufficiently, she slumped down next to the cleric with a defeated sigh.

No sign of Gracia. No body, no trace, nothing.

She was gone, as abruptly and unceremoniously as Felicia had dreaded.

Neither spoke for some time, until eventually, the redhead broke the silence.

“Ever been in love? You’re around that age now, right? Surely you’ve had a crush before.”

“Huh? No…I never had much chance to meet others or go out when I…lived here.”

“Sheltered runt.”

The cleric had no comeback, letting the woman gather her thoughts and continue in her own time.

“My first impression of people tends to be negative, so I find it hard to admit when I…actually like someone,” Felicia said, laying back on the ground, “I’m not usually honest with myself either. It makes falling in love a bit…challenging.”

After quieting into a pensive silence for a moment, the mage continued, “there was this one time, though…I fell for someone completely out of reach. Way outta my league. I fell for someone who thought nothing of me, someone who lived in a whole different world. But even as those differences were so apparent, I couldn’t help but think about our similarities, as few as far between as they were. I ended up wanting to prove myself to her, to make a lasting impression- to be worthy of her time. It was only too late that I realised, but…”

Adelina curiously looked down at Felicia, whose wistful gaze was directed at the cold winter sky.

“I fell in love with Gracia Alcott.”


	17. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

 

**_Archer_ **

_True Name:_ Innes

 _Alignment:_ Chaotic Neutral

 _Strength:_ C

 _Endurance:_ D

 _Agility:_ B

 _Mana:_ D

 _Luck:_ B

 _Noble Phantasm:_ B+  
Nidhogg -Sullied Hands of Humanity-

 _Independent Action:_ B

 _Magic Resistance:_ C

 _Anti-Air:_ A

 _Clairvoyance:_ B

 _Military Tactics:_ B--

_(Original) Master:_ Harold Galloway

Upon the death of Harold, knowledge of the Fire Emblem War- which had only been privy to a select few- spread across the Mages’ Association. Nagilis became the centre of attention for mages all across the world, turning the magically backwater island into a hotspot for curious and powerful figures of the Association. However, interest quickly waned, with the Fire Emblem nowhere to be found; though this failed to deter some of the more dedicated arrivals.

* * *

**_Caster_ **

_True Name:_ Nergal

 _Alignment:_ Chaotic Evil

 _Strength:_ E

 _Endurance:_ C

 _Agility:_ D

 _Mana:_ A+

 _Luck:_ B

 _Noble Phantasm:_ C  
Aether Harvest -Feast of Quintessence-

 _Noble Phantasm:_ B  
Ereshkigal -Darkness of the Underworld-

 _Territory Creation:_ B

 _Item Creation:_ C++

 _Tome Mastery:_ N/A

 _Millennia of Wisdom:_ C

 _Dark Sorcery:_ B

_Master:_ Kerry Denton

Kerry was declared missing along with hundreds of Nagilis’ residents. A wide scale police investigation was launched, with the world’s eyes on the island city, awaiting with baited breath to see the many mysteries solved. As years passed with no results, the many odd occurrences became just another chapter in Nagilis’ already strange history. And while irregular sightings of Kerry had been reported at the time, his case was ultimately left as unsolved as the others, with the few people left to care about him eventually moving on with their lives.

* * *

**_Rider_ **

_True Name:_ Minerva

 _Alignment:_ Neutral Good

 _Strength:_ B++

 _Endurance:_ B

 _Agility:_ D

 _Mana:_ B

 _Luck:_ C

 _Noble Phantasm:_ A+  
Hauteclere -A Roar Challenging the Gods-

 _Noble Phantasm:_ C  
Iote’s Shield -Dominance of the Skies-

 _Riding:_ A+

 _Tantivy_ : C

 _Early Initiative:_ B

 _Warrior’s Charisma:_ C

_Master:_ Edward Falkenburg

With the death of the last Falkenburg, the treasures of the Falkenburg manor lay in plain sight for the taking. Numerous thieves and opportunists swarmed in to claim their prize, leaving the Association’s officials to scrape up whatever had been left behind. Some suggest that most of it was quickly transferred to the Clementine estate, while others claim that other tome copiers were first to reach the collection. No matter whose hands it fell into, only one thing can be said for certain: few would care for the legacy of the family it had once belonged to.

* * *

**_Assassin_ **

_True Name:_ Jaffar

 _Alignment:_ True Neutral

 _Strength:_ C+

 _Endurance:_ D

 _Agility:_ A+

 _Mana:_ D

 _Luck:_ B+

 _Noble Phantasm:_ C  
Body of Shadows

 _Presence Concealment:_ B++

 _Eye of the Mind (False):_ C-

 _Shadow Lantern:_ C

 _Lethality:_ C

_Master:_ Adelina Scheuer

Steadfast and persistent, Adelina eventually convinced Auntie Felicia not to send her back to her parents, and instead was given a small house on the outskirts of Nagilis to live in until the church was rebuilt. She continued to not only tirelessly devote herself to the teachings of Naga, but also to discover her own interests and become part of the community around her. It didn’t take long for the people to come to love Sister Adelina.

* * *

**_Lancer_ **

_True Name:_ Camus/Zeke/Sirius

 _Alignment:_ Lawful Neutral

 _Strength:_ A

 _Endurance:_ B

 _Agility:_ B-

 _Mana:_ B

 _Luck:_ A

 _Noble Phantasm:_ A  
Gradivus -Spear of Divine Rending-

 _Magic Resistance:_ A

 _Riding:_ A

 _Knight of Obscurity:_ B

 _Artemis’ Curse:_ A

 _Eye of the Mind (True):_ B

 _Battle Continuation:_ C

_Master:_ Felicia Clementine

Not long after the end of the Fire Emblem War, with Nagilis City still in shambles, Felicia Clementine vanished without speaking a word. Some speculate that she started an aimless journey across the world to find Gracia, still believing her to be alive. None could say what the result of her search was, other than creating a sizeable power vacuum in her home city.

* * *

**_Guardian_ **

_True Name:_ Tiki

 _Alignment:_ Lawful Good

 _Strength:_ D/A++

 _Endurance:_ E/ **EX**

 _Agility:_ C/B

 _Mana:_ A

 _Luck:_ C

_Transformation:_ **EX**

_Magic Resistance:_ C/A

 _Naga’s Blessing:_ A

 _Emblem’s Guidance:_ A

 _True Name Discernment:_ A

 _Monstrous Strength:_ -/A

 _Odd Rhythm:_ B

* * *

**_Saber_ **

_True Name:_ Lucina

 _Alignment:_ Lawful Good

 _Strength:_ B

 _Endurance:_ C

 _Agility:_ A

 _Mana:_ B

 _Luck:_ C

 _Noble Phantasm:_ A  
Falchion -Parallel Blade-

 _Noble Phantasm:_ B  
‘Marth’ -Name of the Hero-King-

 _Magic Resistance:_ C++

 _Instinct:_ A++

 _Naga’s Blessing:_ B

 _Time Traveller:_ D

 _Dancing Blade:_ C

_Master:_ Gracia Alcott

Unknown.

* * *

Thanks to some kind, understanding strangers, Lucina had gathered very necessary modern warm clothing, and a ticket for a ship off the island. Now incarnated, she could feel the biting winter chill, carried on the sea breeze, an unpleasant sensation she hadn’t missed while being a Servant.

She couldn’t complain, though. There was something refreshing about having a real body again, even if she lost many of the convenient abilities she’d gotten used to; the most important of which was by far dematerialisation, which would have saved her needing to find regular transport.

The girl had a long way to go, all on her own.

Fortunately, she knew where she was headed. That was all she needed; she had a purpose, a drive…

A place to be.

After a long day or so, the ship landed in a harbour town, far away from the island she’d left behind. She didn’t give it much thought; she was starting to get tired, but rest could wait. Her next objective was to find transport further inland.

From a bus into a nearby big city, Lucina found herself in need of money to proceed; the train fare was pricey, and she had nothing to her name other than her borrowed clothes. This wasn’t a new experience for her, though. Plenty of times, she’d found herself in an unfamiliar land, in an era new to her, with only her instincts to guide her.

This time was no different. She did what came most naturally to her- helping others all over the city, taking on work and saving up funds for a cross-continental train ride. After a few weeks had passed, she was able to move on, leaving behind this city like the last.

The journey on train was long, but Lucina was patient, and glad to have an opportunity to truly rest. It took her through lands she’d travelled through in various eras; some still looked as they always did, and some had completely transformed.

She was close now, disembarking at a small village at the end of the line.

From this small village, she had to circle a mountain- on foot- to reach her destination. The climate was warmer here, and the rural scenery was a breath of fresh air after her time in the city.

Finally, she reached a small hill, surrounded by a beautiful field of flowers and lush greenery, its picturesque view contrasting with the little house sitting amongst it.

This was it; the place she needed to be. The image that had been seared into her mind along with a series of others in the Fire Emblem. Lucina knew exactly what to expect as she knocked the front door, noting that the house’s exterior hadn’t been cared for much recently.

A kindly old man answered the door, and invited the weary girl inside.

A gentle old woman offered her refreshments, which were well appreciated.

Then, the traveller spoke a single name, and why she’d come. The elderly couple understood that this day was an inevitability, and were thankful, even in their sadness.

They brought a boy into the room.

A child of only five years.

Lucina crouched to the boy’s height, kindly smiling at him.

Shyly, the child returned his own smile.

“This might be sudden, but…if you come with me, you’ll have the chance to meet your mother one day.”

Nervously, the child looked between the old couple and this new stranger. The couple were well aware their time was coming; soon, they would pass, and the child would be left all on his own again.

So they had to trust this perfect stranger. A stranger, so kind, so honest- with an air of mystery they couldn’t hope to comprehend, yet could so easily trust.

“Until then, I will protect you. I will be your guardian.”

“Guard…ian?”

“That’s right. And if you make a wish, from the bottom of your heart, and always believe…I’m sure you’ll get to meet your mother.”

The boy fell silent, downcast.

Then, after a moment, he smiled again.

A radiant smile, like the morning sun.

With a single nod, the child’s- and Lucina’s- new life began.

* * *

The person’s eyes shot open, their awakening greeting them with a dingy room and a splitting headache. The light source wasn’t immediately obvious; there were no windows, and no ceiling lights. If anything, this was probably a basement.

“You made it. That’s a relief.”

A voice they didn’t recognise- one belonging to a girl sat at her bedside. Purple hair, and shining eyes that had a mysterious property to them…

“Most people don’t survive a wound like that. Lucky for you, the nature of your being is fundamentally different to the norm. I was just about able to save you.”

“I…” the figure, laying down, started to find their voice, “who…am I?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know all that much about you. You’ll have to piece that together yourself. No rush, though- take it easy from here.”

“You…saved me?”

“That’s right. To do so, I gave you a part of…myself. We’re connected now, and you owe me one, but otherwise, you’re alive and well…ish.”

The amnesiac stared at their own hands, then the rest of their body, as though it was alien to them. They turned back to the girl, and met her eyes.

Her mysterious, shining, beautiful eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Me? Well…”

After giving it thought, the girl cheerfully grinned.

“I’m your hero.”

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. Thank you for reading Fate/Holy Seal all the way to the end. 
> 
> This story took me a few years to write, and I often lost motivation. I'm very happy I managed to finish it in the end.
> 
> I want to say there will be a sequel- and I'd love to continue this story. I had a great time writing this fic, and my ideas have only improved since I laid out the foundations a long time ago.
> 
> Unfortunately, life is complicated, and this story ended up being way long than I imagined. To write another story of this length will take time, so if I do manage to do it, there'll be more than a bit of a wait for it.
> 
> Perhaps, if we all wish on the Emblem, it'll come to pass.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this fic! I'd really love to hear what you all thought of the experience, now that it's over.


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